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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139871">Life after Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylanna/pseuds/Sylanna'>Sylanna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rebirth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:35:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>79,019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylanna/pseuds/Sylanna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being reborn wakes conflicting feelings in Fingon who is still struggling with the past. He takes himself away from Tirion and his family, to quieter lands, still mourning his lost love. History catches up to him fast.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Finrod Felagund | Findaráto/Maglor | Makalaurë</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>378</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Place to stay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome new and old readers! This story will be dealing with Fingon's experiences reborn in Valinor.<br/>I need put some content warnings ahead:<br/>CW for trauma, multiple past character death and rebirth, discussion about past suicide (Maedhros')<br/>Nothing goes too much into detail, but if one of those topics greatly upsets you, this story is probably not for you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western"><span>Fingon w</span><span>ouldn</span><span>’t stay in Tirion. </span><span>This much he had decided upon already.</span><span> His uncle may be the king and ha</span><span>d</span><span> reinstated him as a prince </span><span>of the Noldor</span><span>, but </span><span>acting according to the title was out of the question.</span> <span>O</span><span>utside of his family, the hostility </span><span>against those who had seen Beleriand was still there</span><span>. He </span><span>shouldn</span><span>’t really be hurt by </span><span>the stares and whispers</span><span>. He did so much worse than just whisper behind someone’s back. </span><span>Still, an ill feeling gnawed at his mind and he wanted to flee from it all.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>The question </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span>, where he w</span>
  <span>anted to </span>
  <span>go </span>
  <span>instead</span>
  <span>. His family </span>
  <span>wa</span>
  <span>s spread out over the known lands of Aman, at least the part of it that had been released from the Halls of Mandos.</span>
</p><p class="western"><span>His parents </span><span>we</span><span>re staying with his brother Turgon </span><span>for a while</span><span>, who </span><span>wa</span><span>s in the process of building another Gondolin. </span><span>He had wanted to leave their parents house on the outskirts of Tirion too. Fingon</span> <span>wa</span><span>s not welcome </span><span>in the new Gondolin</span><span> after his last big fight with his younger brother. </span><span>They had often disagreed during the early years of their father’s kingship and it had carried over into the world of the living again. It was a bit ironic that this time both of them felt like distancing.</span><span> So far, staying at the court of Arafinw</span><span>ё</span> <span>had been</span><span> the best solution for </span><span>Fingon’s</span><span> dilemma, </span><span>but s</span><span>till, he c</span><span>ould</span><span>n’t help but feel unwelcome. </span><span>He had worked with his father on integration programs for the reborn elves, some of whom had never been to Valinor before. It had always felt like foul play for Fingon. How could he attempt to help others with something he was struggling with?</span></p><p class="western"><span>Going to some Teleri or Sindar </span><span>realm</span> <span>wa</span><span>s out of the question too. For obvious reasons.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Fingon may be revived, but he </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> lost at what to do with this life granted. His adoptive son </span>
  <span>wa</span>
  <span>s still dead, his beloved will </span>
  <span>dwell</span>
  <span> forever in the Halls and his family was estranged.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His aunt Nerdanel </span>
  <span>had </span>
  <span>offered him accommodation once. He </span>
  <span>couldn</span>
  <span>’t accept, because he </span>
  <span>was unable to</span>
  <span> look her in the eyes. She ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> lost so much and for some of it, he fe</span>
  <span>lt</span>
  <span> guilty. Also, she told him what his cousins did </span>
  <span>in great detail some years before</span>
  <span>. Her sons. She told him of Maedhros’ actions and his fate. How his beloved found his end. Fingon </span>
  <span>did</span>
  <span> not think he c</span>
  <span>ould</span>
  <span> forgive or forget. He </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> shocked and disappointed. Shocked because of the bloodshed, </span>
  <span>less out</span>
  <span> of surprise. He </span>
  <span>remembered</span>
  <span> the wording of F</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>anor’s Oath </span>
  <span>all too well</span>
  <span>. Still, he h</span>
  <span>eld</span>
  <span> love for Maedhros in his heart, for the one who will never come back. Two Sons of F</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>anor were released </span>
  <span>already</span>
  <span>, to Nerdanel’s joy. The Ambarussa, who were barely adults at Alqualond</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>, </span>
  <span>were</span>
  <span> reunited with their mother. </span>
  <span>To this day, Fingon was unsure if it had been mercy by Námo for Nerdanel</span>
  <span>. The </span>
  <span>twins</span>
  <span> hid at her estate. </span>
  <span>Another reason why he </span>
  <span>would no</span>
  <span>t go to her house. </span>
  <span>Fingon considered himself unable to deal with his more estranged cousins for the nearest future.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>At a loss </span>
  <span>at</span>
  <span> what else to do or where to go, Fingon t</span>
  <span>ook</span>
  <span> two horses from his uncle’s stables. </span>
  <span>He had no true plan for himself, except to travel and get away from the bustling capital of the Noldorin population. He was not completely unprepared, he took some tools with him.</span>
</p><p class="western">High King Arafinwё was inconsolable. “Are you sure you must go?”, he asked, concern in his voice. His clear eyes shone bright with the light of the now dead trees still a distant reflection in them.</p><p class="western">
  <span>Fingon nod</span>
  <span>ded</span>
  <span>. “As long as I am at court, tension will rise, for you are protecting a kinslayer. The one who led his father’s host in that ill </span>
  <span>morning</span>
  <span> at Alqualond</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>. Take my absence as a gift, uncle.”</span>
</p><p class="western">“I do not wish for you to go. You have been a great help and the resentments are finally dying down more and more. Your initiative has helped a lot. Why are you are leaving as Finderato did?”</p><p class="western">
  <span>Fingon was aware of the attempted manipulation. </span>
  <span>The praise might be given with true sentiment, but the line about Finrod was not kind.</span>
  <span> Finderáto </span>
  <span>had</span>
  <span> once told him of the good-bye with his father, before their deaths. </span>
  <span>So far</span>
  <span> his blonde cousin ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> not been re-embodied yet. The ways of the Valar were strange </span>
  <span>and Námo was the one who could determine the fates of many</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>In Fingon’s eyes, i</span>
  <span>f one deserve</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> their rebirth, it surely would be Finrod.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Your firstborn will one day stand beside you”, Fingon </span><span>just</span><span> s</span><span>aid</span><span> and le</span><span>ft</span><span>. </span><span>He would not be swayed by his uncle’s words, but also he would not answer in anger.</span><span> He </span><span>bit his lip and </span><span>d</span><span>id</span><span> not say a word about Artanis being still alive in Middle-Earth.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>His few belongings were packed easily onto the two horses. Fingon d</span>
  <span>id</span>
  <span> not own much. There </span>
  <span>were</span>
  <span> a tent, tools, his bow and harp, some clothes and food. He d</span>
  <span>id</span>
  <span> not need more. </span>
  <span>Aman was spacious and there were still places no elf ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> seen before. Maybe even the Valar h</span>
  <span>ad</span>
  <span> not seen </span>
  <span>them </span>
  <span>after the death of the Trees. Fingon actually like</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> the sun better theses days. He d</span>
  <span>id</span>
  <span> not mourn the old light as he once did. He love</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> the sun for it’s egalitarianism. It was for everyone, everything, in the same amount. Maybe there in the wild lands, he w</span>
  <span>ould</span>
  <span> be able to find a valley for him to stay and make a life.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>It was not a valley that capture</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> Fingon’s eye after two weeks of travel into the west. </span>
  <span>On his way, he r</span>
  <span>ode</span>
  <span> around Valmar and passe</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> the ruins of Formenos. The old locale of F</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>anor’s banishment was long forgotten. It ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> crumbled almost to the ground. </span>
  <span>The black stones of the once great castle were a sorry sight in the light of the sun. Fingon remembered it still in his mighty days, when the building had been a warning and almost a stronghold. He had visited it not too often. He had ridden there only to meet Maitimo, in the times when they had still thought the rift between their houses could be mended.</span>
  <span> Rightfully, </span>
  <span>the ruins of Formenos</span>
  <span> could be considered Nerdanel’s property </span>
  <span>now</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>She had not gone back to her parents when F</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>anor had left, which had surprised many people. She had refused to renounce her marriage, even as the Valar had offered to free her from her marriage oaths. It had been a courageous decision and many had hated her for it. She had taken up residence in the old F</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>anorian mansion in Tirion.</span>
  <span> No wonder she never cared for </span>
  <span>Formenos, which she had hated from the beginning</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Two days later, Fingon passed the river where</span>
  <span> there once was the end of Valinor. </span>
  <span>Now it was just a border to the unknown lands beyond.</span>
  <span> Legend </span>
  <span>went,</span>
  <span> the restructuring of the world after the War of Wrath ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> even touch</span>
  <span>ed</span>
  <span> this shore. As far as Fingon </span>
  <span>was able to</span>
  <span> tell, this was the truth. </span>
  <span>As far as his eyes c</span>
  <span>ould</span>
  <span> see, there were now hills </span>
  <span>overgrown by trees</span>
  <span>.</span>
  <span> It was the shore in the north-east, a small bay, which h</span>
  <span>eld</span>
  <span> his gaze. </span>
  <span>Coming closer, he fell in love with the shore and decided to stay.</span>
  <span> There, he start</span>
  <span>ed</span>
  <span> building himself a small hut out of the nearby trees. He </span>
  <span>went</span>
  <span> hunting and fishing to not starve. From wild berries he f</span>
  <span>ound</span>
  <span> a day’s walk away, he collect</span>
  <span>ed</span>
  <span> seeds and plant</span>
  <span>ed</span>
  <span> them in his garden. </span>
  <span>The few crops and seeds he brought from Tirion, he set them in the ground too.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>A</span>
  <span>fter two years, Fingon ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> a moderately comfortable life built for himself. In all this time, the only visitor had been his sister Aredhel, who </span>
  <span>had</span>
  <span> followed his trail one day. She swore to keep his new home a secret from his family. Fingon needs the time to come to terms with the past and his renewed life.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His sister c</span>
  <span>ame</span>
  <span> by roughly </span>
  <span>every second month. </span>
  <span>Alone, she was a fast </span>
  <span>traveller</span>
  <span> and it t</span>
  <span>ook </span>
  <span>her only five days on her fastest mare.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>I went into the woods too”, she declare</span><span>d</span><span> one day. “I found a home with the Sindar, the new ones. </span><span>They call themselves the Galadhrim, they </span><span>are</span><span> waiting for their old king and Artanis.</span><span>”</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Keeping an overview over the different groups of elves was complicated. Once, it had been only Vanyar, Teleri and Noldor, divided by the time of their arrival in Valinor. </span>
  <span>Now, there were Sindar on these shores, too. Some re-embodied like Thingol himself. The old monarch ha</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> taken the biggest part of his people to </span>
  <span>the forest</span>
  <span>s of Lorien. There, he reunited with his Queen Melian, who had been waiting for him in Valinor. Their new home was no Menegroth, but it was beautiful in it’s own right. </span>
  <span>Fingon had seen it once, when he visited it with his uncle on a diplomatic mission. Thingol was much easier to deal with, now after his rebirth. He still d</span>
  <span>id </span>
  <span>not trust the Noldor and protested Fingon’s presence, but he was at least listening to Arefinw</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>’s words. It was also kind of funny to hear the proud Sindar speak Quenya. He had to learn it, because at the date of his rebirth, it had been the dominant language of Valinor. Now, almost all elves sp</span>
  <span>oke</span>
  <span> both languages and sometimes even mix</span>
  <span>ed</span>
  <span> them. F</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>anor would have exploded, had he been here. </span>
  <span>Fingon t</span>
  <span>hought</span>
  <span> it was good he </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> still in the Halls.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>L</span>
  <span>ife in the woods so far away from any elven civilisation was a lonely thing, but it was calming. The sea b</span>
  <span>rought</span>
  <span> back memories, good and bad. It reminds him of the travels with his family in his youth as well as of the first kinslaying. The sun, when it set, let the sand shimmer red, as if it was glowing. Sometimes, the sky t</span>
  <span>ook</span>
  <span> the colour of Maitimo’s hair. It was those evenings, he misse</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> his old lover the most. </span>
  <span>Then, the memories of their shared time were the most clear and left his heart aching.</span>
  <span> As many elves d</span>
  <span>id,</span>
  <span> Fingon never felt this way for any other </span>
  <span>and still, he was torn.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>With his own past, he has come to terms. This was what the stay in the Halls of Mandos was for, even if he fe</span>
  <span>lt </span>
  <span>much regret over everything that happened in Berleriand. Fingon th</span>
  <span>ought he was released because</span>
  <span> this was the best he </span>
  <span>would have gotten in the halls.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Doomsperson comes to visit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After three years, a second visitor came. It was a person with with ashen skin and sunken-in cheeks. Fingon had met them before. It was one of the Valar, Námo, the Doomsperson, who spoke the curse after Alqualondё.<br/>Fingon’s first instinct was to hide, but he refused the urge. It would be futile. If the Lord of the Dead was there to claim his fёa once again, there was nothing the prince could do. Instead, he bowed. “Lord Námo”, he greeted them.<br/>“Findekáno, Son of Nolofinwё, called Fingon.”<br/>“Yes?”, Fingon asked with worry in his voice. Why did Námo ask? “That is my name.”<br/>“I know”, Námo said, as if he had read Fingon’s thoughts.<br/>The Vala kept silent for a while, looking out over the sea. “You have chosen a fine place.”<br/>“Thank you. I did not think you knew this part of Valinor.”<br/>“I know every place an elven soul lives at and has been to”, they answered.<br/>Fingon was silent. “Ah”, he whispered. “One can not hide from you.”<br/>Námo seemed to shake themselves. “Oh, excuse me, I am still a bit stiff in conversation with the Quendi”, they said. “At least when you have a hröa.”<br/>“Do not worry, I am not used to speaking to the Valar either. What is the reason of your visit? I understand you leave the halls only seldom.”<br/>“An important matter has come up”, they revealed. “And I thought it best to get some input from someone of Noldorin heritage. Unfortunately, appearing in Tirion always makes me and the inhabitants of the city very nervous.”<br/>A Vala with anxiety? Stranger things had happened in these lands. “So you came here? What is the matter?”<br/>“Actually, before we get there, can I ask you a few questions?”, Námo almost begged. They must have more than one reason to visit Fingon, he realized.<br/>“Alright.”<br/>“You have stopped begging me for your cousin’s release”, they voiced. “Why?”<br/>“Do you miss my harp play?”, Fingon asked back. No reply came, expectant eyes watched him. “Fine”, he sighed. “As long as I am unsure how I would greet Maedhros, it would be unfair to him. Also, I realized I am no Luthien.”<br/>“You aren’t”, Námo agreed. “But I would not begrudge you your happiness. Beren was ready to leave my Halls as soon as he had entered them. Human souls are strange that way. Maitimo will not return from the Halls.”<br/>Fingon sighed in relief. “So you allowed him entrance to your halls. You never told me. Or Nerdanel.”<br/>“Again, it was not my decision to make. His fёa found the way, after he forsook the Oath. All his siblings did, in death. Second question. I know it is a bit late, but which name do you prefer?”<br/>Fingon shrugged. “I don’t really care if you call me Findekáno or Fingon. Just do not mention my mother-name and we are fine. Are these your questions answered?”<br/>“Yes, Findekáno”, Námo declared. They looked a bit more comfortable now. “The true reason for my visit lies in a wish made by your cousin Findaráto Ingoldo, Son of Arafinwё, called Finrod Felagund. He is ready to leave my Halls, but he does not wish to be re-embodied in the usual way. After he heard from your choice of living outside of Tirion, he begged me to ask you, if he could join you here.”<br/>Fingon looked down at the floor. The thought of another joining him was not unwelcome. But he knew the newly returned often needed family to help them settle. He was aware of how dependant he had once been. “I am not equipped to help him. I am neither immediate family nor a healer.” He would be open with his words and not refuse because of cruelty.<br/>Námo waited a while before answering. “It is his wish, I am merely relying it to you. You can refuse, even though this means he will not walk here for another few years.”<br/>“Can’t you just tell him that his father misses him greatly and would do anything for him?  Although, he may already know. We fёa are allowed to look at the tapestries after all.” Fingon certainly had done so during his time in Mandos. That was why he had known about the politics and where his family was, at least he suspected it. One did not remember much of the Halls, except for they way one had changed. “Alright, so why me?”<br/>“His reasoning is not known to me.”<br/>“You were talking, obviously. What did he say?”, Fingon drove a harder bargain now. He had the notion that there was something unspoken there.<br/>Námo seemed to be a bit more uncomfortable again. “Not much. Findaráto was just unwilling to return to his immediate family upon his leaving of my domain. Something to do with the expectations of his father.”<br/>Fingon drew back in understanding. This he could believe. He was glad to be out of the direct line of succession. His time as High Prince had not always been a good one. Right now, Angrod held that title in name only. He already declared to cede the title to his older brother, once he stepped back into life. “Alright. I can imagine why he has some reservations”, Fingon said. “Still, I am not sure if living here will do him good.”<br/>“Oh, believe me, it is often better to allow the fёa their wishes. I have learned at least this much during my time working with them”, Námo replied. “Do you agree to take Findaráto in, if I put him down at your door?”<br/>Fingon bit his own tongue, but then relented. He had always liked Finrod, even if the thought the stunt the other did for Beren was stupid. “Fine, I will not throw him out.”</p><p>In the coming month, Fingon prepared another bedroom in his house, just in case Finrod was returned earlier than  anticipated. Námo had not given a timeframe other than ‘not immediately’. In the language of the Valar, this could mean anything between minutes and years.<br/>Námo also doesn’t show up again, which makes Fingon cross with them. He would have liked to talk with the Valar again, maybe to ask a few questions more himself. He does not deny, those questions would have been about his doomed cousins. Maybe it is good that Námo does not turn up again.</p><p>Even if Fingon had thought in the morning about Finrod, the knock on his door came unexpected. Aredhel was not scheduled to return for three months. She had some business in Turgon’s new city to occupy her mind. “It’s an amazing structure, very distinct craftsmanship”, she had told Fingon. “It bears some resemblance to Gondolin, although it has no name yet.”<br/>“You could just name it “New-Gondolin”, the old king joked.<br/>Aredhel looked at him disdainfully. “No, thanks. I like to think we elves are a bit more creative than humans in naming our settlements.”<br/>Fingon laughed at that. When he had first heard of the renaming of the one human town into Minas Tirith, he had nearly collapsed. Of course, it was the Sindarin word for watchtower, but there once was an actual tower in Beleriand bearing the same name. It had suffered a terrible fate. May the humans have more luck.<br/>Well, Aredhel would be there for the naming of the new city and then would stay as part of it’s council for a while, so Fingon wouldn’t see her for months.<br/>He carefully opened the door and looked into the eyes of a newcomer. He wore the typical clothes of someone newly released from Mandos. There were silver lines of old scars in the face of the male elf, traces of claws running over his cheeks. Golden hair fell down over the shoulders of the ellon.<br/>It was Finrod, re-embodied and healthy. The silver marks the only visible reminder of the past. He looked a bit disoriented and lost, but also glad to see Fingon.<br/>“Cousin!”, Findekáno greeted him and embraced his lost relative. “Námo has dropped you off here?”<br/>Finrod relaxed into the embrace. “I asked him to bring me here.”<br/>Again, Fingon did not understand this one of the Valar. Usually, Námo sent a letter to the family, telling them to meet their relative at the fog barrier surrounding the Halls of Mandos. It was unheard of, them catering to someone’s wishes. One day, Fingon would have to pry the whole story from his cousin, but this was not the one.<br/>“Come in”, he said. “You must be thirsty.”<br/>“Unbelievably so”, Finrod whispered and followed Fingon inside.</p><p>The first days with someone returned were always a bit hazy. From his own experiences, Fingon knew it could be an emotional whirlwind. He himself refused to look at the tapestries depicting the time between the kinslaying in Doriath and the first years of the Second Age and got told most of the rest by his father. Aredhel’s return was different, she had known already and lived in a state of sadness and fury for years before settling down into the person she now was.<br/>Finrod is one of those who watched the history of his family through the woven strands, so there was not much Fingon had to tell him. Well, his own recollection would not have been a good one either. When learning about the history, he had focused on his own family and not much else. Finrod had been interested in the human history too, which was a nice difference.<br/>There were some questions though, that need to be answered, now that Finrod was back. The first of them was “Why me?” What Fingon wanted to know was, why not Arafinwё or Amariё? Why did Finrod chose to be brought to Fingon?<br/>He posed the question on the third day, when they were huddled for warmth in Fingon’s small kitchen, the only space with a fireplace. The winds outside already spoke of a harsh winter.<br/>Finrod sipped from his tea before he answered. “Why you indeed? I missed you, of course. It has been so long.”<br/>“Do not talk around it, please”, Fingon begged. He was already tired and just wanted a plain answer. He had not been the best diplomat in Beleriand.<br/>“Do you know I could have been reborn as early as the War of Wrath?”, Finrod interrupted. “I refused.”<br/>“Námo gave you a choice?”, Fingon laughed bitterly. “Me, they basically complimented out of their door.”<br/>Finrod hid a smile behind his mug. “I was persistent. And they really did not like to argue then.”<br/>“Why did you stay then?”, Fingon asked. “You must have longed to see your father again.”<br/>“And leave the rest of my family behind? I know you were alone in the halls, refusing contact, but I visited my brothers. Angrod and Aegnor, they needed me.”<br/>“They never told anyone about you”, Fingon narrated. “I asked them about you, you know. All they said was, you weren’t ready.”<br/>Finrod sighed. “I wasn’t. I am not sure if I am now, but it felt the right time to regain breath.”<br/>“Again, why me? And not Amariё or your father?”<br/>Finrod took another sip. “I do not wish to see Amariё. And my father would have been glad to see me, as his heir. Not necessarily as his son in the first place.”<br/>“He never seemed to me like he would have need of an heir.”<br/>Finrod sighed. “The duties of the Crown Prince are not my desire. In Nargothrond, I was able to delegate the paperwork and the ruling for the most part. I did what I had to, to keep my people save. I never enjoyed being a ruler though. So I stay away from Tirion for now.”<br/>Fingon breathed in, relieved. “So there is no bad blood in your family?”<br/>“No, but I am not close to my father anymore.”</p><p>One morning, when Fingon went down the stairs to the kitchen, Aredhel was already there. She must have come at the break of dawn and entered without waking anyone.<br/>“Good morning, sister”, Fingon greeted her. It was not the first time she had shown up unannounced.<br/>She sat at his table, seemingly forlorn. Fingon did not press her for information. Instead, he made tea for three and pulled three cups from his cupboard, made out of clay.<br/>“Three?”, she asked confused.<br/>Oh, right. He hadn’t told her about Finrod yet, in the few minutes since their greeting. He should rectify that. “Yes, when Finrod wakes, he will want some tea too.”<br/>She nearly shrieked. “Finrod is back? And you haven’t told me?”<br/>“It is new development”, Fingon defended his silence. “Maybe three months now.”<br/>“Three months is a long time”, she said Then she frowned. “I was with uncle Arafin a month ago. He did not tell me his son was back..?”<br/>“He wasn’t told.”<br/>“Why? Námo generally contacts the family before sending someone back.”<br/>“In this case, not. You have to ask Finrod about their reasoning.”<br/>Aredhel snorted. “I will. So he’s living with you and nobody knows?” She sounded even more confused.<br/>“That’s the short of it, yes.”<br/>She shook her head. “Times are getting crazy, aren’t they?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I tried not to specify a gender for Námo. I hope no mistake has slipped through my editing, if so, I am sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Living with Finrod</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the kind comments so far! I love hearing from you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Living with Finrod was surprisingly easy. Fingon gave him the first bedroom to become his and after that, they evaded each other when they did not want to talk. Fingon was content. His plants were enough to feed two elves and the fish were also biting, whenever he went to fish. Finrod was not really a help with the small field, but it had to be expected. Even though his claim on the throne had previously been weak, Arafinwё raised him as a prince. Compared to Fingon, he knew nothing of farming. For his own knowledge, Findekáno had to thank his own father, who sent his children out to learn.<br/>That did not mean Finrod was useless. In his second year in the woods, he made it his duty to build a small forge. So far, if they needed new tools, Fingon had had to walk to Tirion or Valmar. That had been once, after his shovel broke. Everything else, he had been able to repair with easy means.<br/>Fingon himself had no need for a forge. It was not his preferred past-time and he had no talent for it. Once, Fёanor had tried to teach him. It had not ended well. Finrod however, he loved crafting with metal. He wasn’t as naturally gifted as Fёanor’s line, but he had been known for his jewellery. This more recreational talent was still useful for repairing tools and such. Only the tours to Valmar to get new ore were straining for Fingon. He did those for Finrod, who was basically still hiding. Once they had tried to send Aredhel, but she had the worst eye for materials out of all of them.</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Amariё found out first from all of Finrod’s family and friends. This was less surprising, especially since she and Aredhel had become friends somewhen in the years before Fingon’s return. He should not have expected Aredhel to keep the return of Finrod a secret. Fingon had hoped though, because he had not pried into Finrod’s reasons for avoiding his former fiancee.<br/>Finrod had not expressed his feelings about Amariё to Fingon on his own either. He suspected they were not as amorous as they had been before the ice. Or something must have happened that Finrod had decided to avoid her. In all seriousness, Fingon had not wanted to dig around in his cousin’s love-live as long as he had not figured out his own.</p><p>It was a beautiful day in spring when she knocked at their door. Fingon was in the kitchen, preparing an easy stew for the evening, when the sound startled him. Aredhel was not expected and any other visitors did not know of their hideout. Supposedly. Finrod was in the woods, chopping wood for their fireplace. He would never knock on the door as he was living here too.<br/>Fingon left the kitchen and opened the front door. Before him stood a vanyar elleth, her hair long and in intricate braids. Still, some if her hairs were windswept and hanging loose. It was clear she had travelled for some time. She wore a riding outfit and a green cloak. Behind her, a black horse stood. Fingon knew her to be Amariё, once betrothed to Finrod. Immediately, he felt a bit awkward, because he did not know where they stood with their former relationship.<br/>“Good day, Lady Amariё”, he greeted her.<br/>“Findekáno”, she said, foregoing all titles.<br/>He stepped aside and let her into the warm kitchen. Outside, a chilly breeze had taken the warmth with it. “Welcome to my humble house. Do you want something to drink?”, he asked, fulfilling his duties as a host.<br/>She smiled. “That would be lovely. What can you offer me?”<br/>“Water or tea. Unfortunately, we do not have wine here.”<br/>“Tea is fine”, she said.<br/>He went and fetched the kettle, filled it with water and put it on the stove. Then he felt ready for the delicate conversation. “Why are you here?”<br/>Her face contorted, showing uncertainty. “I came to speak with Ingoldo.”<br/>“Finrod is not here”, Fingon said. He did not add currently, to provoke her into revealing how much she knew.<br/>“He has been returned to this place and I would like to speak with him today.”<br/>Alright, she knew enough. “He is currently out. He should be back in a few hours. You can be my guest for the time, if you do not plan on giving him a hard time.”<br/>“I fear my conversation with him will not be entirely pleasant, but I do not mean to harm him in any way.”<br/>“That is all I ask.” Fingon had his fair share of uncomfortable discussions after his own return. Especially hard were those with the elves who had died by his hand.</p><p>Finrod came back a few hours later, as Fingon had predicted. Living together for such a long time had given him enough knowledge about his cousin to be able to anticipate his actions.<br/>Findaráto stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell upon Amariё in the kitchen. She just looked at him calmly and also expectant. Finrod gave Fingon a sign and the former High King left them to their own.</p><p>A few hours later, Amariё left the house. Fingon was outside and witnessed her departure. He was tending to the berry bushes in the side yard, cutting away dying vines and such. She did not see him in her fast walk to her horse. She mounted the animal and was gone as fast as the animal would take her. Finrod was standing in the entrance of the cabin, watching her go, but he did not wave nor did he want to hold her back. He stood there for a long while, so Fingon walked over.<br/>“What did she want?”<br/>Finrod stared at the sea. “Officially dissolving our engagement.”<br/>“That is heartless, doing so shortly after your return”, Fingon stated. It was beyond rude to do something like that under these circumstances.<br/>Finrod grimaced. “To be honest, I did expect it. I saw the tapestries after all.”<br/>“And what did you see in the woven strands?”<br/>“You did not know?”, Finrod asked. “She is now in a happy relationship with a vanyar warrior women.”<br/>“I am sorry you lost her love.”, Fingon said. “You were poised to marry, once.”<br/>Finrod seemed to sober up. “Yes. Before the darkening”, he agreed. “I made my choice that day on the blood-soaked shores, as did you.”<br/>Fingon nodded, letting his head sag down a bit. Findaráto was right, they all made their choices, for good or bad. Fingon had followed his love and Finrod had left his behind. Everyone walking over the ice had had their reasons. Finrod’s however, just may have been more noble than Fingon’s.</p><p>After Amariё’s vistit, nobody came for a long while. Even Aredhel stayed away, probably she felt guilty for telling her friend about Finrod’s location. Surprisingly, the two women must have kept the secret between them, because neither Arafinwё nor any other of their family came. Fingon was not mad, but he would have liked to see his sister again. Finrod did not comment on the matter either.</p><p>The sun set painted the sky a dark red one day again and Fingon was unable to tear his eyes away. He let the knife he held fall to the ground and sat down onto a patch of bare soil. His tunic would bear the marks in the morning, but it needed a way anyway.<br/>The colour was so similar to Maedhros’ hair, it hurt Fingon to look at the painted clouds. The whole setting reminded him of so many things, but most of all, Himring. There was a dark grey rain-cloud out on the ocean, with a bit of imagination it could have been the sign of Thangorodrim. He sat there in the dirt of a long time, staring out and living in his memories. Once, on the highest tower in Himring, he had shared the evening with his beloved. The orange clouds had drifted over them and they had cuddled until the stars had come out. The breeze in Himring had been cold, but they had shared their body warmth and lain still. Now, Fingon was shivering, because he missed the familiar body beside his.<br/>“Are you alright?”, Finrod suddenly intruded on Fingon’s thoughts. The blonde ellon was standing next to where Fingon was sitting, eyes also turned towards the ocean.<br/>Fingon shook his head, because it was the truth. He was not alright.<br/>Finrod processed this for a while and then sat down. “Do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you?”, he offered.<br/>Fingon was unsure. He had not yet figured out how much Ingoldo knew about Maedhros. He had also now wish to discuss the morals of the story right now. Finrod had been one of the more conservative elves of their generation. Still, he nodded. Maybe he could avoid the true depths.<br/>“I guess it is the sunset that is bothering you, yet I can’t figure out why. Is it your aversion to fire that is flaring up?”<br/>Fingon shook his head. It was true, he did not like big fires. The controlled one they used to keep their home warm and to cook was fine, but the one in the small forge they had built was already on the edges of his comfort zone. He suspected his aversion to fire came from several reasons, mainly to do with his own death and Maedhros’.<br/>“Not the fire then, but something about the colours?”, Finrod asked and Fingon nodded this time.<br/>Ingoldo was silent for a few seconds, thinking. “Copper”, he suddenly said. “Copper”, he repeated as if he had had a revelation. He probably had.<br/>Fingon slowly turned his head to his cousin and was pierced by an unforgiving stare.<br/>“I did not expect the memories of Russandol to be still tormenting you.”<br/>Great. This sentence did not give Fingon any insight in the thoughts of his cousin. He waited patiently for the judgement that would certainly follow.<br/>“I miss them too”, Finrod said, surprising Fingon. “Though probably in a different way than you do.”<br/>“I expected you to hate all of them”, Fingon said. “After all, their father dragged us all down.”<br/>Ingoldo shook his head. “I have made my decision and have to live with it.”<br/>“Who do you miss most?”, Fingon asked, just to change the topic away from Alqualondё. He did not need the memory of that day right now, with the sky the colour it was.<br/>“Maglor”, Finrod said without thinking. “I once loved singing with him, before we were separated by many leagues, with me in Nargothrond and him in the Gap.”<br/>Fingon remembered their duets well. They had been a celebrated duo during the time of the trees, playing mostly in public spaces for everyone to hear. “Your duets were something to hear for sure”, he said.<br/>“I do not have to ask you for who you missing most”, Finrod stated in retaliation. “It is Maedhros.”<br/>“Yes. The sky has colours of his hair in it.”<br/>Finrod smiled. “You have loved him well during all those years in Beleriand, have you?”<br/>Well, this explained some things. Sometimes Fingon suspects they had been the worst kept secret of their time. On the other hand, his father and brothers had never commented, so they probably did not know even now. At least with Finrod he would not have to hide. “Yes.”<br/>“Did he return you feelings? I never asked, I always guessed it was not reciprocated, but now I am wondering.”<br/>“It was mutual. What do you think why I went to Himring that often? I certainly did not enjoy the freezing heights of it.”<br/>“Because sometimes, even if they do not return your feelings, missing them hurts the most.”<br/>“True”, Fingon agreed. “But we were happy for the years following Thangorodrim. Until I did the worst I could do to him and died.”<br/>“That is not on you.”<br/>“And still, after the Nirneath Arnoediad, everything went wrong.”<br/>“It went wrong when Manwё pardoned Melkor”, Finrod protested. “Everything else, I see as in part a consequence of this.”<br/>Fingon shook his head. “No. The blame is ours. If I had not followed to Beleriand, how many would have lived?”<br/>“It is of no use to discuss this thousands of years after it happened”, Finrod interrupted. “We won’t reach a conclusion, ever. Tell me about Maedhros, the parts I do not know.”<br/>“What do you want to know?”, Fingon asked. There were many memories he had of his beloved, many of them were painful now. Those, he would not be able to narrate now.<br/>Finrod smiled. “When did you know he was the one for you? Because you never had eyes for anyone else.”<br/>“The summer festival in my eighty-first year, as counted by the trees. We went together, as was customary for two unmarried ellyn”, Fingon recounted. He would never forget the day. “He danced with some elleth from the Vanyar Court. By Eru, I was furious, because she made Russo so uncomfortable, he kept looking at me.”<br/>Finrod laughed. “And then proceeded to cause ruckus, I remember. Finwё was not pleased.”<br/>“I just pulled her away from Russandol and took the dance for myself. How should I have know she had been an ambassador tasked with diplomacy?”<br/>“Maybe by listening to the introductions made at the beginning of the feast?”, Finrod asked, talking about another old custom.<br/>Fingon shrugged. “We were late, because Aredhel hid my ribbons and Maedhros helped me braid them in.”<br/>Finrod laughed again. “You were vain.”<br/>“Indeed I was. But you can talk! You were obsessed with red gems then.”<br/>“Touché.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Gilgalad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fingon gets visited by another member of his family, who he desperately needs to talk to.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Writing this story and keeping Fingon's somber mood is a bit demanding.<br/>Thank you for keeping me motivated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Another unforeseen visitor came the next year. Fingon did not even get notified of his release, which made him sad. One day, he was just standing at the door, just like Finrod did. Ereinion Gilgalad, the son Fingon raised for a long time. Who he taught how to be a king, at least for a while. Who Maedhros loved, even if their time had been cut short. Apparently, in the eyes of the Valar, Fingon had never been counted among Ereinion’s family, because otherwise he would have been notified.<br/>“I did not know you were released”, Fingon stated without preamble.<br/>Gilgalad flinched a little. “Not many were notified”, he stated.<br/>“Námo started to listen then and changed their old protocol”, Fingon sighed. “Sorry. I am glad you are back.”<br/>Ereinion also carried the markings of his death. There were faint traces of silver scars on him. His neck was shining in that colour, the pattern similar to Fingon’s own. The signs of burns. His heart clenched. Of course he had been told how his son died, but seeing it was another matter entirely. The Balrog had left their marks.<br/>“Do you want to come in?”, Fingon asked and stepped aside. Gilgalad followed him into the kitchen, which was clean for once. Finrod had cleaned a fish the in the morning and Fingon had made him scrub the whole room until the smell had been gone.<br/>“You have a nice home here”, Gilgalad praised. Again Fingon became painfully aware of how stilted their conversation was, so different from their days in Beleriand. Time was what separated them now. Fingon had been dead for most of Ereinion’s life and his son had been the High King with the longest reign. Gilgalad had surpassed him in so many ways.<br/>“Thank you”, Fingon managed to mutter. “Do you want something to eat or drink? I have some steamed salmon, if you want.”<br/>“A cup of tea would be lovely”, Gilgalad said in a soft tone.<br/>Findekáno prepared him a cup on the small fire he had going. They were silent during the process. When they both had their drink in front of them, Fingon found his voice again. “For how long have you been back?”<br/>“Several months”, Ereinion answered. “I went to Tol Eresseä, to the house of Lady Celebrían. She was my confidante during much of the Second Age.”<br/>“I hope you found peace with her”, Fingon allowed himself to say. His son deserved the best and if it lay with Artanis’ daughter, he wouldn’t argue. He also did not know the Lady Celebrían well enough to judge her.<br/>Gilgalad looked up. “You are not angry you weren’t notified of my return? When you first saw me, your mood was not the best.”<br/>“I respect your wishes. I always have and always will.” Before the Battle that became known as the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, he had asked Gilgalad where the elfling wanted to stay. Cirdan had been the answer and Fingon had not argued.<br/>“I have never thanked you, have I?”, Gilgalad suddenly asked.<br/>Fingon was confused. “For what?”<br/>“For raising me. I know I am not your son by blood. And for sending me to Cirdan before the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.”<br/>“I did what I had to, to keep you safe. Nothing to thank me for.” It was the truth. Fingon would have never let his son come to any harm, nor would he have given away the baby after he had held him for the first time. “Are you in the knowledge of who your parents were?” He never made it a secret that Gilgalad was adopted to the elfling and also said he somehow was connected to his line, but he never told him who his parents were. Had he found out in Mandos?<br/>“No”, Ereinion answered. “And I ask you to not tell me, if I do not ask. Just one thing, how closely am I related to you, truly?”<br/>Fingon shifted uncomfortably. “You are of Finwё’s line, but no descendant of my father.”<br/>“Thank you, ada.”<br/>Instantly, there are tears in Fingon’s eyes. “My son”, he whispers and leans in for an embrace. It was more stiff than his reunion with Finrod had been, but it was a heavenly feeling.<br/>“By the way, does your family know about your relationship with Maedhros?”, Gilgalad wanted to know a bit later.<br/>Fingon shook his head. He died, still keeping the secret. After his rebirth, there had been no reason to tell anyone. Truth was, he could have just come out with it, without fearing much backlash. The Valar had gotten pretty progressive over the last millennia, learning from elves, men and dwarves alike. Still, he kept his feelings close to his heart. “Finrod may suspect”, he relented. “Maglor might have known, too. But he never told anyone.”<br/>“You kept your secret all these years? I heard you were released nearly fifty years ago.”<br/>Fingon looked aside. “Nobody asked and I still fear my mother’s reaction. I just did not shout it from the rooftops. Especially considering... Oh well.”<br/>“What?”, Ereinion pried.<br/>Findekáno shook his head. “I just don’t know how to feel about him. He did”, he swallowed. “So much evil. What I saw was a repeat of Alqualondё. Afterwards I stopped watching him, I couldn’t bear looking at the tapestries again. That day, what I saw, was so different from the elf I love. And I can’t shut the tiny voice in my head up, if it was my failure as king and partner, me dying, that drove him to such madness in the end. Sirion. The abduction of Elwing’s children. His own death.”<br/>“And still you are using present tense when talking about your love for him” Gilgalad had always been perceptive. He was the most successful elven king for a reason.<br/>“Despite everything, yes. This does say a lot about my character.”<br/>Ereinion smiled. “Only good things.”<br/>“I am advocating for a mass-murderer. I would say this sounds damn unhealthy.”<br/>Gilgalad seemed unimpressed at this bit of self-deprecation. “This is the thing about elven near immortality and the gift of rebirth. Neither of those who were in Beleriand and Middle-Earth is free of guilt, and Fёanor’s sons certainly carry most of it. But I knew an ellon once, who argued on their behalf, even if he suffered greatly by their hands.”<br/>Now Fingon was surprised. “I never heard of someone speaking up for them that had been harmed by them. Only their followers and our family tried.”<br/>“There is one”, Gilgalad said. “He was raised by Maedhros and Maglor, considered them his fathers even. He called them the first victims of their father’s oath.”<br/>“We can’t be absolved just by putting the blame on Fёanor alone”, Fingon argued. “He was not the reason I raised my sword that first time.”<br/>“I know. But his Son’s actions after the Oath can not be judged without taking these careful words into consideration.”<br/>“Ereinion, in your opinion, was swearing the Oath not an unforgivable crime in itself? Following the lords bound by it? I certainly heard people argue this way.”<br/>“Fёanor may be damned for wording it the way he did. I will answer your question with another one: If your father had asked you to swear it, would you have done so?”</p><p>“I would have done it”, Fingon said the next morning, when he was preparing breakfast for Finrod, Gilgalad and himself. His son has spent the night in the second bedroom for guests. It was getting crowded now in the tiny house he built, all the beds were occupied. Maybe, one day, he had to invest the energy into adding more space on the ground floor. He could also make his own bedroom smaller, but Fingon did not feel like sharing. It was his refuge, if everything was getting a bit much.<br/>“What?”, Finrod asked from the kitchen door. He had missed Gilgalad’s arrival and the conversation the evening before and looked confused from on to the other.<br/>“He asked me, if my father would have worded the Oath, would I have sworn it?”<br/>“We’re talking about uncle’s cursed words, are we? Just to be clear. I swore an oath in my own right once, it wasn’t as magically binding but led to my death anyway.”<br/>Gilgalad nodded. “Yes. We had a talk about it yesterday.”<br/>“My answer is yes. I would have sworn it”, Fingon reiterated and stared into the pan. The fried eggs were almost ready and his guests were waiting hungrily at the small table. “I would not have know better and followed my father’s example.”<br/>His son seemed to be satisfied with this. “In the same logic, you can’t fault the Seven for it.”<br/>Fingon remained silent for a long while.</p><p>“When did you see Maedhros last?”, Fingon asked. He knew from some retelling that his son had had contact with the remaining Sons of Fёanor before the end of the First Age, but he did not know the details of it.<br/>Gilgalad thought about it for a moment. “When they gave the peredhel twins over to my people. It was a strange day. There had been a messenger before, giving me a letter from Maedhros. It was to be a deal, their people needed food to stay alive. I always suspected this to be made up, because according to my spies, their stocks were filled. He offered the peredhel twins for it, who would have been my heirs. Again, I had my suspicions, because my spies had reported an almost fatherly relationship between Maedhros, Maglor and the twins. Still, my advisers urged me to take the deal, to secure my heirs, but to send in more troops in case it was a trap.<br/>We ended up on a big field, me sitting beside my general on a cart with supplies, behind us a small army and on the other side the same thing mirrored by the Fёanorian side.”<br/>“Could that have become a battle?”, Fingon asked.<br/>Gilgalad shrugged. “Certainly. But neither side wanted it. I think Maglor was the one who had insisted on their cavalry, because he remembered how Maedhros had been taken by Morgoth. Maedhros by then had been a shadowy figure, rarely leaving his tent.”<br/>“What else do you remember about him on that day.”<br/>“He was thin, but still had all his strength. Surprisingly, he did not wear armor, Maglor did. Around the stump of his right arm, he had had a golden ribbon bound which was clean, a difference to the rest of his clothes. The deal went over quickly, but I almost left the twins with them. The two children cried so much for their fathers. Then, the thing with Eonwё happened and I think giving the twins to my care had been a well calculated move. I would really like to ask Maedhros one day if he loved them.”<br/>“A golden ribbon?”, Fingon asked, tears burning in his eyes.<br/>Gilgalad nodded. “It was yours, wasn’t it? I did not remember then that you had worn your hair with them. Tell me about the significance?”<br/>“He liked to bind one around the stump, claiming it relieved him of some of the pain.”<br/>“This was hundreds of years after the Nirnaeth”, Gilgalad wondered.<br/>Tears rolled down Fingon’s face. “I let him braid my hair before that wretched battle, but with less pomp than usually. Around five ribbons I left in his care. For him to have kept them all this time…”, he sobbed.<br/>Gilgalad put an arm around his father. “He must have truly loved you, even then.”<br/>Fingon let the tears fall. “I love him too, still after everything. But I can’t bring myself to advocate for his release again, too much has happened I cannot process.”<br/>“I understand”, Gilgalad said. “I did not go to Mandos for him, because it is not my place to do so. Just know, when the day comes and you go and wish me by your side, I will be there.”</p><p>“How was Gilgalad’s visit?”, Finrod asked when they were alone again.<br/>Fingon swallowed. “It was good to see him”, he answered with care.<br/>“What did you two talk about?”, Finrod wanted to know. “If you are willing to tell me.”<br/>“I was afraid to see him, I feared he would blame me for. Well, you know, Alqualondё, for leaving him.”<br/>“And?”<br/>“He doesn’t”, Fingon said and smiled. It lifted his spirits to know his son did not hate him.<br/>“That is good news”, Finrod replied. “What else? I guess you had a talk about Maedhros.”<br/>Fingon nodded. “I asked him about the end.” He swallowed again. “Gilgalad met him shortly before the end. When they gave Eärendil’s sons into his care. Maedhros was not well.”<br/>Finrod looked at the floor. “No wonder. The Oath drove all of them mad in time.”<br/>“And still I wonder if I could have helped him. Maedhros was not well after Thangorodrim and he drew back from it. Is it my fault, in dying and leaving him?”<br/>Finrod again shook his head. “No, Fingon, you are not to blame. You were killed in battle, do not think about the what if’s. I’d rather hear you contemplating the future.”<br/>“How so? The past is still on my mind more often than not.”<br/>“What will you do once Maedhros is returned to you?”<br/>“I do not know yet. Also, I doubt his return will be soon.”<br/>“You could always plead for his release, join Nerdanel again in waiting”, Finrod suggested.<br/>“No. I did so in the beginning, until I realized I have to get a clear mind myself, to even start thinking about Maedhros’ return. Am I selfish?”<br/>“No”, Finrod replied. “You are considerate, much more than I am. I did not ask if you were ready for my presence, when I pleaded with Námo about the terms of my return.”<br/>“It is fine”, Fingon said. “Somehow I enjoy conversation with you. Maybe because you do not talk with poisoned words about the Fёanorions.”<br/>“I could not, for I love and hate them in my own way.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The End of the Third Age</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Arda, the Third Age comes to an end and the last of the elves set sail towards Valinor. The news even reach Fingon and Finrod in their cabin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">When Aredhel came to visit, she always brought news from the cities and settlements. Mostly, it was nothing to disconcerting, only political shifts.</p>
<p class="western">“Another faction has started building their own realm”, she told Fingon and Finrod recently. “The group of Oropher, led by the silvan elves who had been at odds with Thingol for long, has finally made their choice. They will settle further to the south-west than the Galadhrim, on the border of Oromё’s forest.”</p>
<p class="western">“It was to be expected”, Fingon answered, not really surprised. He had known about the difficulties for a long time, but had not followed the developments after he settled at the sea. “Tensions were high. With Thingol, there were too many factions with too different views. It is better for them to split into proper settlements. It will allow more of our people to find peace of mind.”</p>
<p class="western">“That is easy talk for you, brother”, Aredhel groused. “You have done the same, only on a much smaller scale.”</p>
<p class="western">“I did”, Fingon uttered. “It was for the best.”</p>
<p class="western">“Are you truly happy here?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked out of the window of his small home. “I feel as calm as I ever was. Tell me, what news came from Middle-Earth as it is called?”</p>
<p class="western">She grimaced. “There’s war again. Many of our kin fled west, there’s a high influx of new residents, especially on Tol Eresseä. There is talk it will be the end of the time of the elves on the eastern shore.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon closed his eyes for a moment. “Sauron, I hate you!”, he cursed under his breath. Hopefully this time he would be made to follow his master.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes, I feel the same. Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do”, Aredhel whispered.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked at her. “I hate that we were not able to defeat him with his master. That the Valar basically overlooked him. Now, he has killed two more of our family. My son”, he added in a bitter tone.</p>
<p class="western">“I am sorry”, Aredhel responded. “I would have liked to be the bearer of better news.”</p>
<p class="western">“What of the peredhel twins Maedhros once abducted?”</p>
<p class="western">“Once chose the mortal path, the other lives.”</p>
<p class="western">“I would like to meet the one who chose the elven path one day, I think”, Fingon said after some thinking. “Gilgalad advised me to to so.”</p>
<p class="western">“Maybe you will get the chance. If he survives this war, there is a chance he might sail. After all, his wife is already on these shores, waiting for his coming.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">It was Gilgalad, who told Fingon more about the wars in Middle-Earth, a follow-up to the battle Ereinion himself had died in.</p>
<p class="western">“Celebrimbor was a genius”, Gilgalad said. “But like his grandfather, it was his downfall.”</p>
<p class="western">“I had hoped he would not be falling with the doom”, Fingon sighed. “Especially after he renounced his family.”</p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad shook his head. “He certainly lived longer, but his end was the worst. He got deceived by Sauron himself. I already told you about the rings of power, but never talked about the smith who forged them.”</p>
<p class="western">“Celebrimbor?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon’s son nodded. “Celebrimbor was brilliant, arrogant and my friend. Galadriel warned him, multiple times. He heeded her words in the end and sent me two of his rings. One he gave her. Those remained free from Sauron’s evil influence.”</p>
<p class="western">“And the other ones?”</p>
<p class="western">“Sauron forged one ring that could control all the other ones and turned the bearers into wraiths. He needed to know where the rings were though. He tortured Celebrimbor to death over it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Shit!”, Fingon swore. “I knew he had died, but everything before the Third Age, I kind of skipped when looking at the tapestries.”</p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad nodded in understanding. “It is a lot of history and most of it is incredibly dull.”</p>
<p class="western">“Still, I should have known it would become important.”</p>
<p class="western">“You will learn enough in time. Between us, I fully understand your hesitancy when learning about all that has happened since our time. A lot of it was quite painful for our family and those we loved.”</p>
<p class="western">“It was. I never want to see someone I love suffer”, Fingon admitted.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The end of the war came sooner than Fingon had expected. He only got news from the few visitors that knew how to find him, so he was always a few months behind the gossip. Finrod was equally interested in the talk that Aredhel and Gilgalad brought with them. His son had taken to visit them more often in their refuge.</p>
<p class="western">It was Aredhel, who brought the most interesting news. “Sauron has been defeated and the time of our kin has come to it’s end”, she said. “There are ships coming almost every day. The settlement of Elrond, Imladris is expected in the next few days. Gilgalad is exceptionally excited, I think he forgot to tell you something.”</p>
<p class="western">“So soon?”, Fingon asked. “I expected the war to last for many years.”</p>
<p class="western">“Apparently, two brave hobbits destroyed the most powerful item of Sauron, one that held his power. He was defeated by this action.”</p>
<p class="western">“At least it wasn’t a simaril”, Fingon said in a bit of humour. The war being over was a great relief.</p>
<p class="western">“No”, Aredhel laughed. “The two missing ones have not resurfaced, for which I am grateful. Also, in my opinion, you should travel to the shores and see the ships for yourself.”</p>
<p class="western">“I am unsure”, Fingon deflected. “There is no one on the ships I have known in my time. It would be awkward to wait for Elrond Peredhel and then to occupy his time. I will meet him on my own schedule.”</p>
<p class="western">“As you wish, brother. I will be at the shores and see who’s coming.”</p>
<p class="western">“Then allow me one last question.”</p>
<p class="western">“Of course, brother.” She was miffed. Fingon knew it, she was calling him brother.</p>
<p class="western">“What in Varda’s grace is a hobbit?”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">A hobbit was apparently a tiny creature with big ears, who loved to eat and was merry. At least this much Aredhel told him, but she had her information from third sources herself. In Fingon’s time, they had not been counted among the speaking peoples of Arda. Times truly had changed. Aredhel left after some hours, she wanted to be at Tol Eresseä when the final ships arrived.</p>
<p class="western">That evening, Fingon found Finrod underneath the stars. The blonde ellon had a sunken posture, gazing into the sky. His lips moved as if in prayer. More Fingon was not able to see from the side. He carefully went closer to his cousin, who did not pay him any mind. He sat down on Finrod’s right. Still, his lips were moving, but no sound passed them.</p>
<p class="western">By now, Fingon understood it was no prayer to Varda his cousin was speaking, he was forming a soundless song. Something must have distressed him greatly. Fingon stretched out his left hand and touched his cousin’s forearm.</p>
<p class="western">“What is on your mind?”, he asked gently.</p>
<p class="western">“The last ships are expected soon”, Finrod whispered.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes. Aredhel said as much.” Fingon was not sure why this distressed Finrod as much. His sister Galadriel was expected, as she had survived and previous ships had brought news she would definitely be on the last one. Still, Fingon asked if it was about her.</p>
<p class="western">It wasn’t. “I am glad she is coming back”, Finrod said. “But it isn’t my sister I was thinking about.”</p>
<p class="western">“So someone is on your mind?”, Fingon concluded.</p>
<p class="western">His blonde cousin nodded. “Maglor. He never died, if he isn’t on the ships, we probably will never see him again.”</p>
<p class="western">“You were good friends, were you?”</p>
<p class="western">Again, Finrod nodded. “Yes. We were. Even after the Ice, I found I could not hate him for it.”</p>
<p class="western">“I remember you visited him once or twice in his domain.”</p>
<p class="western">“He visited my halls too”, Finrod said. “These are good memories, even though the visits were styled as diplomacy.”</p>
<p class="western">“You truly miss him.”</p>
<p class="western">“I do. And now I fear for him.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon understood. “If he is not on the ships, he will either die or live until Arda is remade in exile.”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes. I do not want him to be the last elf in the lands of men”, Finrod said. “I wish he could be here, but this is probably not possible.”</p>
<p class="western">“You wish to regain his friendship”, Fingon said. “Are you aware those Ages of exile will have changed him, maybe even twisted him in ways you never thought possible? Are you prepared to face this?”</p>
<p class="western">A single tear ran down Finrod’s right cheek. “I know his deeds and saw some of what happened after in the tapestries. I wish to see him again.”</p>
<p class="western">“Then I will pray with you for his return”, Fingon promised, offering his strength to his cousin, who needed it most in that moment. Together they sat underneath the gleaming stars, calling upon Námo and Varda, to ask them to guide their missing cousin to the blessed lands.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Some weeks later, Aredhel visited again. It was unusual of her, to come again so soon, something must have made her very excited.</p>
<p class="western">As soon as she entered the kitchen, she began speaking and Fingon knew Finrod’s prayers must have been answered. “You won’t believe what happened!”, she cried. “The ships brought the most interesting people! A dwarf! Two hobbits! And Maglor!”</p>
<p class="western">“What?!”, Finrod asked, two times louder than his usual volume. “Are you kidding me?”</p>
<p class="western">“No! Makalaurё is back. I only saw him for a few moments, when he left the ship. Since then, the peredhel has him sheltered away on Tol Eresseä.”</p>
<p class="western">“I need to go there”, Finrod said, with haste in his voice. Fingon almost smiled at that. His cousin was eager to see if this was the truth, if the prayer had truly been answered.</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel moved in his way and shook her head. “He is not well. Elrond Peredhel is a healer and won’t let anyone to Maglor who he thinks is not good company. He even had the guts to stand in Nerdanel’s way.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod calmed down. “With that, he is officially the most badass person residing in Valinor. Nobody stands up to Nerdanel and survives.”</p>
<p class="western">“He survived her wrath, even though she fought his words like a lioness. According to what I heard, Maglor sleeps much and is weak like no quendi should ever be. Apparently he was fading away, on the shores of Middle-Earth, when the peredhel found him and dragged him to these lands.”</p>
<p class="western">“I always thought he died long ago”, Fingon said. “Nobody knew about his fate, I suspected him to be the only Fёanorion to fall into the Void.”</p>
<p class="western">“He didn’t. Right now he is still in the house of the peredhel, being cared for.”</p>
<p class="western">“I hope the peredhel knows what he is doing”, Finrod remarked. “Maybe it would have been good for Maglor to see his mother.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shook his head. “I don’t think so. I met her and like her well enough, but she never left these shores. She does not know what we went through.”</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel agreed. “In this case, Elrond might be the best help Maglor can get. Elrond is a healer and Maglor’s adoptive son after all.”</p>
<p class="western">“You mean kidnapped.”</p>
<p class="western">“Do not let him hear that. The peredhel threw out the Ambarussa after them making the same observation”, Aredhel said. “Really, watching this scene was amazing. I kept in the background.”</p>
<p class="western">“Why were you there in the first place?”, Fingon asked.</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel’s cheeks reddened. “I had hoped to speak with Nerdanel myself and maybe see more of Maglor.”</p>
<p class="western">“Were you successful?”, Finrod asked.</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel shook her head. “No. After I saw that, I did not try my luck with either of them. Seriously, I do not fancy being torn apart.”</p>
<p class="western">“What business did you have with Nerdanel anyway?”, Fingon inquired.</p>
<p class="western">“She’s my aunt too. I wanted to kinquire, if maybe she knows something about Tyelko and whether he is coming back one day.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod smiled. “You were close friends, were you?”</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel nodded. “Yes, Tyelko was my best friend. As you know, I left Gondolin to meet him.”</p>
<p class="western">“Which was stupid, by the way. Still, what I would have given for you two to meet in peace”, Finrod sighed. “It would have spared me a lot of pain.”</p>
<p class="western">The lady shook her head. “I cannot say what would have happened. They would have betrayed you even with me by their side. You know, the Oath and so on.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon did not really want to talk about this now. He knew there was still some resentment in Finrod against Celegorm and Curufin, who had betrayed him in Nargothrond. Breaching the topic would be not the best idea.</p>
<p class="western">“I thought you were asking Námo already often about Maeglin, why don’t you ask for Celegorm too?”, Fingon wanted to know.</p>
<p class="western">Immediately, Aredhel looked sad. “The Lord does not talk with me the way he did with you before Finrod’s return. I only got the confirmation that my son will be allowed to live again, one far away day. His fёa has not healed yet. When I asked about Celegorm’s fate, Námo remained silent.”</p>
<p class="western">“I am sorry to hear this”, Finrod said. Somehow Fingon doubted the sentiment was behind his words.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Later, when Aredhel was sleeping, Finrod opened one of the bottles of wine she brought with her. His grim expression told Fingon everything.</p>
<p class="western">The wine had been made of white berries and tasted very sweet to Fingon’s tongue. The handwritten label on the green bottle marked it as an ice-wine.</p>
<p class="western">“This bottle must have been expensive”, Fingon remarked.</p>
<p class="western">Finrod just raised his shoulders a bit. “I need it right now.”</p>
<p class="western">“Are we celebrating Maglor’s return or trying to forget the conversation about Celegrom?”</p>
<p class="western">Ingoldo stared into his glass. It was of the simpler variant, without any ornaments etched in. He remained silent for a while. After a few moment he confirmed Fingon’s suspicion. “I am aware of Aredhel’s deep friendship with Celegorm, but I still do not want to see him again.”</p>
<p class="western">“I understand”, Fingon said. “I feel the same about Caranthir and in his case, the betrayal was not really his own.”</p>
<p class="western">“You are still sour about that?”, Finrod asked.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “That cursed day set up so much bad, sometimes I wonder if I could have prevented any of it, if I had survived.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod shook his head. “Do not let your thoughts be poisoned like that. Much would have happened the same way.”</p>
<p class="western">“Poisoned I may be.”</p>
<p class="western">Without words Finrod filled up Fingon’s glass again. “Death has changed you, cousin.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shook his head. “Life has changed us, but in being dead we learned to accept it, I think.”</p>
<p class="western">“That is an accurate view, if I have ever heard one”, Finrod answered. Then he changed the topic back. “How would you react, if Caranthir stood in front of you?”</p>
<p class="western">“I would probably still hug him”, Fingon said. “As much as I would like to scream at him, these dark conversations better be left for a long time.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod nodded. “I feel similar about Celegorm. I will not begrudge Aredhel her wish or her happiness, should he be returned, but I will avoid being in the same room alone with him.”</p>
<p class="western">“A good strategy. Now, let us toast to Maglor and his return. May he find happiness on these shores.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Trivia: In the beginning, I tried to give the story a title in Quenya and ended up with 'Cuile po Firie' until I realized I know shit about the language and it's grammar, so I switched to the english version I started with.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Elrond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fingon made his way to the peredhel later that same year. The season had changed into autumn. He had waited because he wasn’t sure of his welcome at the house of the elven lord. After all, Fingon was the lover of the ellon who had kidnapped him in his youth. It was Finrod who had dragged him out of the door. Now they were both on the way to one of the new elven settlements of Valinor.<br/>When they passed Valimar, Finrod decided to take a detour. He wanted to meet with Amariё and her wife. Fingon rode in alone. The landscape had changed greatly from the time of his youth. Different kinds of trees grew in different places and they took on other colours when winter came. Thinking of it, the leaves had never changed into deep red as they now did, during the years of the trees. The cities had not undergone much rebuilding, the basic skylines were still the same. With the population steadily increasing, the cities had grown a bit and new ones were emerging steadily ever since the Valar had declared the lands free to settle for all elves. A lot of elves reborn or who had sailed had left Tol Eresseä and moved to to main land. Elrond, Son of Elwing and Eärendil, had not. His house stood on the island.<br/>To get there, Fingon had to board the ferry from Alqualondё. The city of swans had long been rebuild, but differently and now a wall circled around it, never letting anyone forget the spilling of blood. In tengwar, the stone-masons had inscribed the names of the ones who had died at the shores. It never failed to make Fingon feel uneasy. He knew by now for which names he was to blame. He lifted his hood and hid his face and hair underneath. It would keep him anonymous until he reached the ship.<br/>Surprisingly, the Teleri steering the ferry let him come aboard without protest. Nobody spoke to him, but it was much more preferable to open hostility.</p><p>“Welcome, Fingon, Son if Fingolfin and Anaire”, Lord Elrond greeted him at the entrance of the house in Tol Eresseä. It was a typical noldorin structure, with high arches and round shapes. It was a big building, stretching out to both sides. A stable hand had already taken Fingon’s horse away and he had walked up the small path through the rose garden. He had never been here before, partly because his part of the family was not welcome on the island. An inscription above the door revealed the house to belong to the Lady Celebrían. She must have built it in the hope of her husband returning. Fingon had a similar sign above the entrance of his small home at the far shore, but he had added a Fёanorian Star beside his own sigil. Somehow it had felt right. When Finrod moved in, he had just raised an eyebrow but had refrained from commenting on it.<br/>Fingon bowed. “Lord Elrond, it is good to make you acquaintance.”<br/>The elven Lord shook his head. “No such formality please. We are related after all.”<br/>“We are”, Findekáno agreed. “Rather closely, at least if one would go by human standards.”<br/>“Indeed. But you are not here to see me, are you?”<br/>“Actually, I am. I wanted to meet the elf, who after all still calls Maedhros and Maglor’s names with fondness.”<br/>“Then you should better get in”, Elrond said and stepped aside.<br/>The elven Lord of the Third Age led his guest to a big open space, almost like a pavilion in the atrium of the house. No other occupant was using the small garden around it at the moment so they had privacy.<br/>“I came to understand you are housing Maglor”, Fingon said.<br/>Elrond nodded. “Yes. He is living here. How do you know? As far as I was aware, you were rather a recluse for the last years.”<br/>“I still am”, Fingon said. “With reason.”<br/>“Hence I did not expect you visit”, Elrond said. “Although Gil had hinted he might send you my way.”<br/>“Gilgalad mentioned me?”<br/>“He is your son after all”, Elrond replied with a grin on his face. “You know, he and I bonded over being adopted and having lost those parents.”<br/>“I am sorry”, Fingon said, looking at his feet. The pavilion was slightly raised and his gaze strayed towards the flowers underneath. The leaves were a dark shade of green, with edges like teeth. He did not know the plant, maybe it had been imported from Middle-Earth or was a new sub-species.<br/>“You death has not been your fault”, Elrond intervened. “Dying is a consequence of life, I learned this lesson from Elros.”<br/>“Your twin, correct?”, Fingon asked and swallowed even though his mouth was dry.<br/>“Yes. He chose the mortal path. Maglor cried when I had to tell him, they were close once.”<br/>“You love them, do you?” The question was more rhetorical, the face of Elrond told Fingon everything he needed to know.<br/>“I am not so different from you, in that regard, but your feelings for Maedhros run deeper and more profound than mine.”<br/>“You know?”<br/>Elrond blinked. “Maedhros had not always been clear of mind during the days of my youth, but he was never one for hiding the truth. He told me about his crimes and he counted the Nirnaeth Arnoediad among them.”<br/>“It was not his crime”, Fingon protested. “It was his courage uniting us. If we had waited longer, the enemy would probably just have overrun us one day.”<br/>“I am glad we are on the same page here. Still, he blamed himself for your death and no word from Maglor or I helped him.”<br/>“Is it true, what Gilgalad told me? About Maedhros carrying golden ribbons on him?”<br/>Elrond lifted his eyes and made contact with Fingon’s. “Yes. He kept your ribbons until the end. All but one he carried with him into the fire.”<br/>A single tear began to run down Fingon’s cheek. The salty water was a big contrast to his unusually heated skin. In his mind, he saw the image of his beloved falling into fire, even tough it was certainly not the scene as it had happened. He had never possessed the courage to look at the tapestry. “All but one?”, he choked.<br/>“Follow me.”</p><p>Elrond led Fingon back into the house, towards a medium sized chamber. On the way there, Findekáno had the opportunity to study the walls, which had been painted with scenes from Ages past. Most events he could place, but did not know the faces of the people depicted there. Once again, his reluctance to look at the weavings came back to him, but he remained steadfast in his decision. <br/>On the way, they also passed the statue of a beautiful elleth, which bore some resemblance to Celebrían. Fingon was certain the work was one of Nerdanel’s. Her statues were the most finely crafted in all of Valinor and this bore her mark. Fingon wondered if she had forgiven Elrond for withholding access to Maglor from her. She must have. Still, Fingon did not ask.<br/>The chamber was very obviously the workspace of a scribe. There was an empty book on a writing table, with an ink pot and a quill next to it. The quill was of Noldorin make and would serve the author well. From his quick look at the work Fingon was able to read some words in Sindarin. Apparently, Elrond was the one writing an account of the end of the Third Age.<br/>More, Fingon was not able to observe, because Elrond leaned down and opened the second drawer, counted from the top. He took out a small chest the size of two fists.<br/>“Here”, Elrond whispered and put the chest into Fingon’s hands. “I think this belongs to you.”<br/>The wooden box had a carving on the lid. It took a few moments for Fingon to register what he was seeing. It was a melding of the Fёanorian Star with the five-pointed one appearing in his own insignia. It seemed strange at first, but also sad.<br/>“Elros did the carving one night”, Elrond told him. “After Maedhros told as the story of how you rescued him again and again.”<br/>Fingon was confused. “I saved his life on Thangorodrim yes, but the other times he had my back in battle.”<br/>“He said, you always came to Himring at the right moments, when he was falling into his dark thoughts.”<br/>“I never realized”, Fingon answered. “I know he struggled sometimes, but he hid the severity from me.”<br/>“Why are you not bonded?”, Elrond suddenly asked. “I got the impression your love was great and ever-lasting.”<br/>Fingon shook his head. “I asked him, after Thangorodrim, if he wished to. He refused, out of fear it would bind me to the Oath.”<br/>“Elros was invested in your love story. He created the design on the lid of the box as symbol of your union, even long after your death. He always believed you could reunite. Open it.”<br/>He hesitated. The box also held many memories for Elrond, it felt wrong to take it. Fingon let his right hand wander over the carvings. Everything about the box told him it was ancient. Over six-thousand years of the sun Elrond must have clung on to it. Fingon breathed in deeply and laid his finger against the clasp holding it down. It moved easily aside, as if it had been used often. With a quick motion, he lifted the lid up.</p><p>Inside, neatly rolled together upon a blue lining, lay a golden ribbon as Elrond had told. It was obvious to Fingon’s eyes this was one of his old ones. The time had discoloured it on the edges and dipped them with red. The disturbing thing about it were the specks of burn marks and blood. Fingon himself would have never kept a ribbon damaged this way. Holding it now in his hands, he understood the significance of it, why it had been preserved in a box. This he must have worn the day he died and Maedhros must have recovered it.</p><p>His eyes were stinging when he brushed the fabric with his hand. It still had the feel he remembered. In Valinor, after his release from the Halls, he had never again worn the golden strips in his hair. Too much they reminded him of Maedhros braiding them in, a memory of love now laced with grief.<br/>He felt a hand upon his shoulder and realized Elrond had stepped closer. “It is yours”, the elven Lord said. “You can take it with you.”<br/>Fingon shook his head. “The ribbon may be and I will take it gladly, but the box belongs to you. It is marked by your brother’s spirit and I won’t take it from you.”<br/>“Then let me give you another box to store this ribbon in”, Elrond pleaded. “It is old and I do not think Maedhros would take kindly to seeing it damaged.”<br/>Fingon shuddered. “This sounds as if there is a bad history behind this fear of yours.”<br/>“One day, his mind and arm were giving him great pain, he could not find it. He trashed the tent in his panic, until Elros found the box. We heard him cry that night and it frightened us, because otherwise he had been the strong but caring father.”</p><p>Elrond gave him a simple box, made out of a dark wood, polished but not overly fancy. Carefully Fingon placed the ancient ribbon inside. It amazed him how such a small and fragile piece of fabric had survived for so long. Fingon held it in his fingers for many minutes and Elrond did not interrupt his thoughts.<br/>“He took it from my remains, didn’t he?”, Fingon asked.<br/>Elrond shook his head. “It was Maglor, who cut it from your hair shortly before your pyre was lit, at least as he told me. Once, there must have been a strand of your hair in the box too, but it had crumbled to dust many years before Sirion.”<br/>Fingon choked down his tears. They had threatened to run down his cheeks again. All he was good for these days was crying. “I assumed it must have been Maedhros.”<br/>“He was at the funeral, but not responsive. In Maglor’s words, your beloved was fading, but the Oath kept him alive, which was the most cruel thing about it.<br/>“The Oath was cursed in itself, Námo need not have pronounced the doom”, Fingon agreed. “Tell me more of Maglor, how is he?”<br/>“He is getting better”, Elrond told Fingon. “He starts to truly believe nobody is going to hurt him in these lands.”<br/>“He feared?”<br/>Elrond nodded. “With his history, it is no surprise he holds fear in his heart.”<br/>“There is much I do not know”, Fingon said with a bit of shame in his voice. “I could not bear to look at the tapestries during my stay in the halls.”<br/>“Most can’t.” Elrond’s understanding was comforting. Finrod had always only shook his head, he had watched everything. “In the last few years, I have spoken with some of the returned who belong to my blood. I got the distinct impression that they ignored the happenings in Middle-Earth for various reasons.”<br/>“I watched for a while”, Fingon told his distant relative. “But then the kinslaying in Doriath happened and I…”<br/>“You don’t have to justify yourself.”<br/>Fingon closed his mouth. “Thank you”, he said in gratitude. “Why did Maglor fear these shores?”<br/>“He has great respect for the Valar and is aware many of the revived hold on to their anger towards him. He was partially right, which makes me sad.”<br/>“Partially?”<br/>“The Teleri King Olwё has sent word his people won’t seek out vengeance, but no Fёanorion is welcome at Alqualondё. Thingol’s message has been less polite, but I sent him an equally rude answer.” Elrond’s face conveyed more amusement than the situation warranted. It sounded like dreadfully serious business.<br/>“Thingol has never been pleasant to deal with”, Fingon said instead, remembering his own dealings with the arrogant king. “Although I had expected Olwё to stand more closely with his brother on this matter.”<br/>Elrond shook his head. “Valinorean politics are a mess”, he sighed. “My status as Lord in almost all courts is exhausting.”<br/>Fingon nodded in understanding. Elrond’s bloodline was illustrious and would allow him two royal titles, High King of the Noldor through Turgon or King of Doriath, as grandson of Dior. Somehow, the peredhel had avoided taking one of the crowns in Middle-Earth, which was a bit surprising.<br/>“Can I see Maglor?”, Fingon finally asked. “I want to thank him, for all he did for Maedhros after my death.”<br/>Elrond grimaced. “I will allow you to see him, if he agrees to see you. I would advice you against starting with a line about your shared family though.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The story is undergoing some re-adjustment of the storyline of the following chapters. Hopefully next week the story will be up to standards to update again.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Maglor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I started editing the first chapter of this work, because I was not satisfied with it. Getting closer to the vision I have for this fic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elrond was gone for a long while and left Fingon in the small garden again. The former High King sat down at a small bench beside a strange flower and waited. He used the first part of his waiting to stare at the plant with it’s<br/>
thorns and edges. It was a curious thing, how nature had evolved in the thousand years he spent in the Halls. Truly, it should not have surprised him that much. Still, it caught him every time, the amount of time that had passed, if he saw it evidenced in the things around him.<br/>
“Uncle Findekáno?”, a female voice called him suddenly. Fingon lifted his head and saw a Lady with long, curly silver hair standing in the doorway. She had an aura of power around her and felt very familiar. Her face was scarred in a way Fingon had seen before.<br/>
There was no question to her identity. “Lady Celebrían”, he greeted Elrond’s wife, Galadriel’s only daughter. “I am honoured to meet you.”<br/>
“I am equally pleased”, she said. “Elrond told me his visit with Maglor is going to take a bit longer.”<br/>
Fingon could read between the lines. “So he asked you to keep me company. You do not have to, my Lady, I am sure you have better plans than sitting a weary fёa.”<br/>
“I wanted to meet you”, she said. “You have become quite the recluse.”<br/>
Many people liked to comment on this fact, as if it was the news still. “I chose to take myself away from the politics, yes, to get some quiet and sort some things out. I hope you will understand this.”<br/>
“I do”, she said. Her smile was a bit crooked, the scar tissue hindering her a bit it seemed. Fingon refrained from asking how old these wounds were. Maedhros had never liked talking about what had happened to him, he imagined the Lady Celebrían was the same. Her scars told Findekáno enough to know they had been carved by poisoned orc blades, preventing the full healing.<br/>
“You know, I have lived alone for much of my time in Valinor?”, she suddenly asked.<br/>
Fingon shook his head. “For the longest time, I did not even know of Galadriel having had a daughter.”<br/>
“To be fair, I never really told everybody. My grandparents invited me to court, but I refused. To this day, we do not have much of a relationship, even if mother’s presence is helping.”<br/>
“I found court in Tirion stifling”, Fingon agreed. “Arafinwё did his best, but we had not much understanding for each other. Our lives had been so different and part of my heart still clings to Beleriand, but it is sunken.”<br/>
“It can be hard, coming to an understanding with someone who has seen the lands you lived in for all your life at it’s worst and despising it. At least that’s the impression I got of grandfather.”<br/>
“He has not the greatest opinion about the lands outside Valinor”, the former High King agreed. “He thinks them violent and entire unpleasant.”<br/>
“To some extent, they are. But there is so much love to be found there.”<br/>
“Yes”, Fingon agreed. “But also death and grief.”<br/>
The Lady nodded absently. “Maglor is ready for you”, she suddenly said. “I will lead you to his rooms.” She must have used her marriage bond to Elrond to acquire the information. Celebrían stood up and led Fingon through the corridors and up two staircases. There on the second floor of the building, Elrond stood waiting.<br/>
“My ada agreed to meet you”, the Lord said. “Remember what I told you?”<br/>
Fingon nodded and Elrond stepped aside, leaving the door for him to open. The former High King carefully pressed the handle down and let the door swing open.</p><p>The room was well lit, the sun coming in from two big windows. Both of them faced towards another garden and not to the outside, which must have been a careful calculation of Elrond. These windows were currently open and fine drapes were billowing in the breeze coming in.<br/>
There was not much in terms of furniture, just two chairs, a big table, an empty cupboard and a big bed. On the dark blue covers sat an ellon with shortened hair, his face turned away from Fingon. The figure was so far removed from his memories of Maglor, he had to look twice to see the familiarity. The colour of the hair was certainly the same, and the bow in the back too. Otherwise there was not much more resemblance. Maglor seemed so much older than any other elf Fingon had seen, even Nerdanel had more youth in her features.<br/>
“Maglor?”, Fingon asked, his voice calm.<br/>
For a while, the older ellon did not answer immediately, but he turned his face to the door, mustering Fingon.<br/>
“They allowed you to back?”, Maglor asked. His voice was raspy, as if it had been worked over with sanding paper. It still spoke of the past though.<br/>
Fingon raised his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “Yes? I stayed in the Halls for a long time, but Námo sent me back. They’re not the monsters we thought them to be.”<br/>
Maglor seemed a bit lost. “I cannot judge, for I am the true monster.”<br/>
Fingon shook his head. “You lack the teeth and evil intentions to be one.”<br/>
That brought a faint smile to Maglor’s lips. “You are a good one, Finno”, he said. The old nickname made Fingon’s heart weep for his old friend.<br/>
“No, I am not”, he corrected Maglor still. “I have flaws and faults. I am one of the eldar, neither pure nor truly evil, as are you.”<br/>
“I do not know”, Maglor said and stared at the window again. “I had evil on my mind for a long time.”<br/>
Now, the conversations with Gilgalad and Finrod came back to Fingon and he took the perspective they had given him. “Was it truly evil, when you were forced by compulsion?”<br/>
“I took the Oath with clear mind, hence I am guilty.”<br/>
“You followed your father and I doubt he had it all planned out in his mind.”<br/>
“He was a skilled linguist, I wouldn’t put it past him”, Maglor whispered.<br/>
“Still, you were a good son, following him as was expected. It had been taught by our society this way, so there is no blame in it.”<br/>
“You’re giving me headaches”, Maglor said, a dangerous expression in his eyes. “If you have forgiven me, why do you still hold resentment for Maedhros?”<br/>
That hurt. It also raised the question how Maglor was so perceptive in his state. “It is not Maedhros I have not forgiven”, Fingon said. “It is myself, for loving him the way I do, I am struggling with.”<br/>
Maglor’s eyes softened. “I understand”, he said with obvious sadness in his voice. “I have not forgiven myself either. Still, why can you talk to me like you have forgiven me?”<br/>
“Maybe because I always judged you differently.”<br/>
“You should not, but I can’t tell you how to feel”, Maglor emphasized. “When you have forgiven yourself, Fingon, please try to find Maedhros, will you?”<br/>
“I will”, Fingon promised. “As soon as I can be sure my own burdens will not harm him further.”<br/>
“Fair”, Maglor replied. “Tell me, who else is back? I know of my youngest brothers and your family, but it seems a short list.”<br/>
“The list is short indeed”, Fingon said. “The Arafinwёans are all back after Galadriel’s return.”<br/>
“I thought Finrod is still unredeemed?”, Maglor asked with confusion. “At least Elrond told me as much and I doubt he lied.”<br/>
Fingon swallowed, noticing his mistake. Finrod’s return was not public knowledge. Still, what harm would it do to tell Maglor? “Finrod is back, but most do not know about it. He asked to keep it quiet, because he has no taste for the court of Tirion.”<br/>
Maglor nodded. “His rebirth must have been a strange arrangement, isn’t usually the direct family notified?”<br/>
“Námo did Finrod a favour. They are not as bad as we make them out to be.”<br/>
Maglor shuddered. “I still do not like to think of the Halls and Námo scares me. Otherwise I would plead for Maedhros myself.”<br/>
“Nerdanel does visit the Halls often”, Fingon told his cousin. “Her pleas have not swayed Námo so far, but as she tells it, they are polite to her at least.”<br/>
“Mother”, Maglor said. “She does not go because of my siblings alone.”<br/>
“No, she does not. I think this is why Námo refuses her visitation”, Fingon mused. “Though I am not sure if they are not making a mistake.”<br/>
The minstrel shakes his head. “Father will need a lot time to think about the past.” He did not comment further and changed the topic instead. “How is Finrod? I guess he is living with you, if you are the only one knowing of his return.”<br/>
“Indeed, he is dwelling in my humble cabin in the woods”, Fingon laughed. “Moping around some days, but otherwise he’s fine.”<br/>
Maglor is silent for a while. “Why did he not come with you?”, he finally asked.<br/>
“He is still in hiding, mostly from his family”, Fingon explained. “He fears his father dragging him to court and making him crown prince. This is exaggerated of course, but he dislikes ruling.”<br/>
“He was good at it”, Maglor remembered. “Nargothrond stood strong for a long time.”<br/>
“I think it is a sign of an acceptable lord or king, them disliking the power”, Fingon says.<br/>
Maglor grinned a bit. “You hated it too, right? Abdicating was the nicest thing Maedhros ever did for me.”<br/>
“Yeah, thanks”, Fingon groused, which brightened Maglor’s grin. The abdication had brought him into the direct line of succession and he had hated it. The only light had been his long travels to the other lords, especially to Himring.<br/>
“Tell me how you came to Valinor”, Fingon demanded. “I had heard you were poised to stay away until the end of time.”<br/>
Maglor looked at the floor. “I had not meant to return”, he verified. “Exile was my choice, for I was certain to be forbidden from entering Valinor and death made me scared. I had sworn to the void if my vow failed and failure was my fate.”<br/>
Fingon nodded. “You never counted in the mercy of the Valar, did you?”<br/>
Maglor shook his head. “Námo had told us what to expect and I feared for the worst. I am not like Nelyo, who did not care in the end. I was afraid.”<br/>
“This is why you never gave yourself to any of the later elven lords, correct?”<br/>
Again, Maglor confirmed it. “If I had searched for death by another hand, I would have easily found it.”<br/>
“And Elrond?”<br/>
“He would have done what he did, putting me on a boat to Valinor. Neither I wished for.”<br/>
“And how are you here now?”<br/>
Maglor looked at the window again. “Elrond found me, told me he would not be leaving without me. Sometimes I wonder how he became such a noble ellon after all we did.”<br/>
“He is fond of you”, Fingon said. “He loves you and considers you a father.”<br/>
“There are days I can hardly belief it. Back to Finrod, tell me, does he still enjoy the music as when we last met?”<br/>
“He does, but he does not sing anymore”, Fingon told Maglor. “I have not gotten an answer why he refuses to do so, but his harp play is still good.”<br/>
“A pity, he has a beautiful voice”, Maglor whispered. “Wait. He is even avoiding Amariё?”<br/>
Fingon sighed. “They separated. She is with a Vanyarin warrior woman and they are happily married.”<br/>
Maglor looked at Fingon as to make sure he was telling the truth. When he found no mischief there, he nodded. “Stranger things have happened. I guess the Valar must have changed some of their rules then?”<br/>
“They were forced to”, Fingon said. “We evolved as so did they.”</p><p>Maglor was tired soon. Fingon saw it in his eyes, he blinked slower and his gaze got unfocussed.<br/>
“You should lie down eventually”, he said. “You are falling asleep.”<br/>
“Will you be here tomorrow?”, Maglor asked.<br/>
Fingon shook his head. “No. I will return to my cabin with the first light of the morning. Finrod is awaiting me with some supplies”<br/>
“Oh”, Maglor said. “I wished we could have talked some more.”<br/>
“I will come to visit you soon again”, Fingon promised. “If you want, I can even bring my own harp and we can play together as in old times.”<br/>
Maglor just shook his head. “I would appreciate you returning soon, but I won’t be able to play with you.” As in explanation, he took Fingon’s hands and let himself be helped towards the bed. The hands of the musician felt strange, Fingon noticed. Their palms were touching, so he was not able to see the inside. The outer skin seemed to be unblemished, if a bit darker from the sun.<br/>
At the bed, Maglor sat down. The few steps had cost him the last of his energy. He tried to pull his hands away, but Fingon held on tight and turned the palms up. He swallowed. The inside, the most sensitive skin, was marred with old scars. Burn scars, deep ones.<br/>
More he was not able to see, because Maglor finally pulled his flesh away. “Yes. I can not play a harp and I haven’t done so in seven thousand years.”</p><p>“What happened with his hands?”, Fingon asked Elrond after Maglor had finally fallen asleep. “I have never seen such scars. Maedhros had bad ones, after Thangorodrim, but the burn marks were the ones fading, because they were not done by a poisoned weapon.”<br/>
“He held a simaril in his hands”, Elrond explained. “Varda’s hallowing of them let them burn at contact with evil and because of the oath, Maglor was cursed anyway. I am trying to ease his burden, but I am not sure if my treatment will do anything good.”<br/>
“What are you doing for him?”, Fingon asked. “I have some experience with treating scars.”<br/>
“Mostly salves made from plants with healing properties. So far nothing has worked, his movement is still as bad as before. I know the outer scars won’t heal because of the source of the burns, but I hope to restore his feeling at least.”<br/>
“Which plants did you use?”<br/>
Together, they exchanged basic knowledge. Elrond knew far more about the healing properties of the plants than Fingon. He was a trained healer after all. Findekáno was not ignorant though. In his time with Maedhros, the red-haired ellon had often required his help in producing the salves and gathering the ingredients for the special scar treatment. To Fingon’s surprise Elrond did not know the plant they had used.<br/>
“It does not grow everywhere”, Fingon said. “In Beleriand, it had grown between the rocks of Himring, used to rocky ground and cold. I know where to find it in Valinor and can bring some of it with me at my next visit”<br/>
“This would be a great help. But, Fingon, tell me the truth. Why are you doing all of this? You and Maglor were not the best friends as I understand it.”<br/>
Fingon swallowed. “I do not know. For a time, I thought I would be doing all this in waiting for Maedhros, but the more I talk with all the elves of my past, the more I understand it is helping me too. I start to understand how my actions have affected other lives and I want to learn more.”<br/>
“And Maedhros?”<br/>
“I started my journey because I needed to understand what he did, yes. But now I understand better what has been bothering me and what will have to happen.”<br/>
Elrond smiled. “You should go to Alqualondё too, seek audience with King Olwё.”<br/>
Fingon swallowed. The kinslaying at Alqualondё was the one thing he had put far away in his mind and therefore never processed completely. Confronting it was not on the forefront of Findekáno’s mind. “I do not think I will be welcomed at the court of Olwё.”<br/>
Elrond squeezed Fingon’s shoulder a bit. “I am not wholly up to date with the Valinorean politics, but I heard your father had an audience with the Teleri recently, in the throne room of Alqualondё. I am sure you will be welcomed too, at least for diplomatic reasons.”<br/>
“I will think about it”, Fingon replied, even if he did not truly want to, he realized he had to, sooner or later. But before he would do this, he would have to talk with his parents and tell them about his relationship with Maedhros.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Healing Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fingon meets Maglor and then travels to Tirion to meet his parents. A very delicate conversation begins.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western"><span>Fingon promised to visit Maglor again, but it would take him three weeks at least</span>. In the meantime, he gather<span>ed </span>enough of the correct herbs and prepare<span>d</span> the salve he want<span>ed </span>Elrond to try on the burns. It <span>was</span> a specific concoction for old scars and it had helped Maedhros in their time. Only thrice during the process of <span>brewing </span>the medicine Fingon br<span>oke down with tears. The process was slow </span><span>by design and Fingon’s emotional outbursts were not helping</span><span>. </span><span>Once Finrod found him with tears in his eyes, bent over the kitchen table. </span><span>It was not a good experience, but </span><span>the blonde cousin</span><span> did not comment. </span><span>He had gathered enough knowledge to understand.</span><span> Instead, he took the stirrer and helped with the brewing.</span></p>
<p class="western">“Maglor asked for you”, Fingon told him on the third such occasion.</p>
<p class="western">Finrod nodded and stared into the pot. “He did?”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes.”</p>
<p class="western">“Why would he? We haven’t spoken in millennia.” Finrod still avoided Fingon’s eyes and stared into the pot.</p>
<p class="western">“I may have let it slip you were hiding out with me.”</p>
<p class="western">“You told him?” Thankfully, Finrod did not seem to be furious. “And his reaction?”</p>
<p class="western">“He said he missed you, and he asked if you still enjoy music.”</p>
<p class="western">“What did you answer?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shrugged. “I told him you still like music, but you do not sing anymore. He thinks it a loss, told me you had a beautiful voice.”</p>
<p class="western">“Still as charming then”, Finrod mused.</p>
<p class="western">“Indeed”, Fingon whispered. “Do you want to tag along when I deliver the medicine?”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod shook his. “No. I am glad to be here still. I do not feel like entering society again and if I go to Tol Eresseä, my parents will know sooner rather than later.”</p>
<p class="western">“You do not want them to know, like ever?”, Fingon asked.</p>
<p class="western">“Not right now. I am not ready for taking up the duties of a prince and I would be forced to do so, if I met them.”</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Fing0n shook his head. “I don’t think Uncle Arafinw</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span> would force you to do anything you are not ready for.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“It is not my mother or father I am worried about. The reaction of the society is what I fear.”</p>
<p class="western">The former High King nodded. He would not judge Finrod for this. He would be a hypocrite if he did so. It was the exact same reason why he had never married his beloved in the years of the long peace. “The elven society of Valinor has not changed overly much”, Fingon said. It was an indirect validation of Finrod’s fears. He had his own fears and he would have to face them soon. Fingon had made first tentative plans to visit his parents after delivering the medicine to Maglor. From Tol Eresseä, it was only a short ride to Tirion after all, at least compared to the distance the cabin was at.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Elrond was very glad for the big jar of salve Fingon gave him, as well as for the seeds of the plant it was made from. Maybe the peredhel would be able to grow it in his own garden. Fingon was unsure if it would work, the plant had never grown near the sea, even if he had tried his best. Maybe Elrond knew more.</p>
<p class="western">This time, Gilgalad was at Tol Eresseä too. Fingon hadn’t seen his son in a long while, so he was glad to meet him.</p>
<p class="western">“Ada”, Ereinion said. He was standing with the Lady Celebrían in the small garden, she dressed in a long silver gown which highlighted her equally radiant hair.</p>
<p class="western">“Gilgalad”, Fingon greeted him.</p>
<p class="western">“Have you met Celebrían already?”, he asked.</p>
<p class="western">“We have met”, the Lady interjected. “I heard you delivered some medicine for Maglor.”</p>
<p class="western">“I have. Sadly he was in no condition to meet me today, so I left the application of the balm to Elrond.”</p>
<p class="western">She nodded. “Thank you. You have helped ease my husband’s worries.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked at the floor. “I have some experience with lasting scars”, he uttered under his breath.</p>
<p class="western">“What are your further plans?”, Gilgalad wanted to know. “I could show you my home, if you wished so.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shook his head. “I will travel on today.”</p>
<p class="western">“Back to your small settlement?”, Celebrían asked.</p>
<p class="western">Again, Fingon turned his eyes to the ground. “No. Not yet. I will ride for Tirion, I need to talk to my parents. Depending on how it goes, I will return soon or stay with them for a few days.”</p>
<p class="western">“Please come by before you turn your horse towards your cabin”, Gilgalad spoke invitingly. “By then, Maglor will surely be of better spirits and you can talk.”</p>
<p class="western">“I will come by”, Fingon promised.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The travel to Tirion was a short one. The outskirts of the city were only a day’s ride from the shores. Fingon took the ferry which was the connection to the city, so he would not have to travel around Alqualondё. Instead he took the way through the pass, through which the light of the trees had once shone. In his inner eye, Fingon could still remember those days. The either silver or golden light had shone through the gap in the mountains, letting the Teleri experience the light too. Nowaday, the thought came to Fingon, of how much an improvement the setting of the sun had been, compared to the trees. Now there was light for everyone, in Valinor, in Middle-Earth and the East. Everywhere growth was no possible. Still, the memory of the trees stung. It had been the light Fingon had grown up with and where he had fallen in love underneath. His first kiss, he had had underneath Varda’s stars and the moon in Beleriand.</p>
<p class="western">In the sunlight, the gap in the mountains looked different. More greener than before. Moss and other small plants grew in the cracks of the walls. It was a friendlier sight.</p>
<p class="western">Twice Fingon passed carriages of Teleri traders. One was very obviously delivering fish to Tirion, the other was smaller. Maybe jewellery and other small crafted items. The pearls of the sea had become appreciated in the Noldorin capital, for they paired well with silver ornaments.</p>
<p class="western">Soon, the city arose in front of Fingon, immersed in the orange light of the setting sun. The hill upon which the main city was build threw it’s shadow already over parts of the historic centre. In the last centuries, the city had grown and houses had been built on the flat lands around. Fingon’s family had been one of the first ones to leave the castle district, out of respect for Arafinwё’s rule. Fingon’s father had even openly declared his loyalty to the ruling king of the Valinorean Noldor. Neither Fingon nor Turgon had felt the need for such a gesture. Turgon now was a lord in his own city and Fingon had basically disappeared from the political stages.</p>
<p class="western">Fingolfin however was still active in the government. With the rising population of reborn Noldor, Finarfin had felt a bit overwhelmed how to handle the integration and rehabilitation of those who were murderers in the first age. Especially as more followers of Fёanor were reincarnated, the problem had grown. Fingolfin had taken over where Finarfin had struggled, creating spaces for exchange of stories and culture, pulling on his experiences handling the diplomacy in Beleriand. Later, Fingon had helped too, but after a while it had become too much. Both his uncle and father had mourned his leaving, but at that time, it had been the best course of action. Now Fingon returned, feeling more <span>at ease with himself</span>, but still anxious about the reactions he would receive.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The stars were starting to peek out when Fingon arrived at his destination. He unmounted and led his horse to the stables. No stable hand had greeted him, nor had a guard been placed at the entrance to the great house. Fingolfin had not cared much for instating such things in his household, deeming Tirion a safe space. Fingon had always been uncertain, but to this day, nothing had happened. Maybe he was just a bit paranoid. In Beleriand there had been constant danger.</p>
<p class="western">The front door wasn’t even locked, so Fingon just stepped into the house, with his pack slung over his shoulder. There were voices from the living room. His mother and father were talking the most, but there was a third person. It took a while for Fingon to place her. It was Nerdanel. This, to Fingon, was surprising. Years ago, before he had left, the red-haired mason had never set foot in Tirion, avoiding the city out of the same reasons Fingon had moved away. Towards her, there had sometimes been open hostility.</p>
<p class="western">They were discussing something or the other, but Fingon did not pay the conversation much mind. His heart was racing.</p>
<p class="western">“Hello Visitor!”, his father suddenly called.</p>
<p class="western">In shock, Fingon dropped his bag. He had entered the house like he would his own home. In fact, he had lived here for a while. Entering without knocking may have been a bit rude.</p>
<p class="western">So he gathered his courage and stepped into the doorframe to the living room. “Hello”, he said. “Mother, Father. It is good to see you. Well met, Aunt Nerdanel.”</p>
<p class="western">“Findekáno!”, his mother cried. Tears ran down her face as she stood up. A few moments later, Fingon was embraced by her. For a few blinks he remained stiff, but then he carefully returned the hug. Her tears wet his skin a bit and he suddenly felt guilty for leaving her. Again.</p>
<p class="western">Fingolfin stood up as well, but he did not join the embrace. He watched and waited, like a calculating king. His mind brushed against Fingon’s, gauging the situation. Nerdanel remained seated, watching the situation with subtle amusement. Her red locks reflected the fire from the fireplace and again Fingon was reminded of Maedhros. He turned away from the memory and hugged his own mother tighter.</p>
<p class="western">After a long while, she let him go. “I though I would have to search for your hiding place myself”, she said. “I am glad you visited.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon was not so sure if she would be glad if he told her why he had come. “I missed you too”, Fingon said. His mother nodded and took his father’s arm. “Do you want to say something too, Nolo?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingolfin mustered his son with calculating eyes. “You have come for a purpose”, he stated. “Still it is a pleasure to see you here.” Then he stepped forward and opened his arms, leaving the decision to Fingon if he wanted to accept. His father had always been awkward with big sentimental gestures, so this was no surprise. Fingon accepted the offer, for he needed it. The warmth of his father’s hug helped calm his nerves.</p>
<p class="western">Soon, Fingolfin stepped back, a hand lingering on Fingon’s shoulder. The warmth seeped through his blue tunic. “Are you in need of something?”, the older ellon asked.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shook his head. He had already eaten some of his provisions during his ride. “I am fine, thank you father. I have come because there is something important you should know.”</p>
<p class="western">Ever the experienced ellon, Fingolfin nodded and sat down on the black couch. Fingon’s mother sat down beside him and he kissed her cheek.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon took a seat in a single chair and leant forward. From his position he had the other three eldar in his eyes. “It is convenient you are here too, Nerdanel”, he said. “For what I have to tell my parents does concern you too.” He turned back to his parents. “I have long hidden this from you and I am only halfway certain if I should speak about it at all.”</p>
<p class="western">His mother looked at him, concern in her eyes. “If you do not feel certain, Finno, you do not have to speak about what is troubling you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Nobody here will force you to share your secrets”, Fingolfin promised. “We feel honoured you place the trust in us though.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you, but I have to open up about this. Keeping the secret has now become a burden I wish to bear no longer.”</p>
<p class="western">Nerdanel’s smile was sympathetic and encouraging. Fingon’s mother seemed rather concerned, whereas Fingolfin seemed unbothered.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon choked down his nervousness. Depending on how he delivered his revelation the reaction would be. He had the sentence already in his head, he just needed to utter it. It had the possibility to damage his relationship with his parents. Fingolfin would probably understand, but about his mother, Findekáno was less sure. She had lived her whole life in Valinor, which had only recently begun to change it’s prehistoric views. “Maedhros and I, we <span>were in a relationship with the intent to marry one day,</span> beginning with my third visit to Himring to my death and I hold on to my love for him still.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Mother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Following Fingon's revelation of his relationship with Maedhros, his parents and aunt have all different reactions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">There was silence in the room. Fingolfin was the only one smiling. Anairё looked at the floor, avoiding her son’s gaze. Nerdanel just stared in shock.</p><p class="western">Fingon swallowed and waited until his elders could process the information he had given them. Again he hated himself a bit for making the decision to deliver this like an announcement. He had never wished to cause such a scene.</p><p class="western">Fingolfin was the first to find his words again. “I knew. I mean, I suspected. Your excuses to visit Himring were sometimes not very. Convincing”, he declared with a slight smile around his lips. “Also, the tapestries were a bit telling.”</p><p class="western">Fingon felt ashamed a bit. It was true, some of the reasons he had made up were suspicious in retrospect. He did not regret the time he spent at the icy castle though. It had been the home of his beloved and for this it had been his home too. “Our love had been woven into tapestries?”, he asked. Better to divert from his foolishness in Beleriand.</p><p class="western">“Oh yes. I came to the understanding Miriel had great fun working on them.”</p><p class="western">Fingon swallowed. He had never searched for contact with any of his further family in the halls. Maybe he should have tried to visit his grandparents and Miriel. Much of the later separation in his family had come from her illness and then choice to stay in the Halls forever. “She did?”</p><p class="western">Fingolfin nodded. “She kept watch over all her children and grandchildren. Yes, she considered us her step-children last I spoke with her.”</p><p class="western">“Enough about Miriel”, Anairё suddenly interrupted. “How could you disgrace our family by falling into bed not only with male, your cousin, but also with him who has been touched by Morgoth’s lies?”, she demanded and stood up.</p><p class="western">“Anairё, love”, Fingolfin tried to soften his wife. “Please calm down.”</p><p class="western">“And you!”, she said with steel in her voice. “How can you bless such a union?”</p><p class="western">“Because our son is old enough to decide upon his own life.”</p><p class="western">She just threw him a poisonous glare and left the room. Her steps could be heard on the stairs to the upper floor. Fingolfin looked at Fingon apologetic. “I should go after her”, he said. “Make yourself comfortable while I talk to your mother. She’s still so influenced by the old Laws and Customs.” He sighed and stood up as well.</p><p class="western">Nerdanel and Fingon were left alone in the room.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Nerdanel had gotten her shock under control during the heated conversation. She just looked after Anairё and Fingolfin with a shake of her head. “Some old wounds heals slowly”, she stated.</p><p class="western">Fingon turned towards her. “They do.”</p><p class="western">“But they heal nevertheless”, she added.</p><p class="western">“I am not so sure”, Fingon answered. His mother had endured much and even her relationship with Fingolfin had changed greatly and never returned to it’s old strength. Believing Nolofinwё, it was still hard communicating through their marriage bond.</p><p class="western">“Your mother will come around.”</p><p class="western">“And how would you know?”, Fingon asked. He was already exhausted and the thought about his departure was already weighing in. He would not find sleep in his parents’ house tonight. The other option was going to Finarfin and ask for a bed, which would be half an hour on horse, an hour afoot. His question had been delivered more harshly than he had wished.</p><p class="western">“You may not remember all you left behind, but me and your mother were among those who stayed in Valinor when you all ran with Fёanáro for better or worse, I don’t know. Anairё and I became close friends. Believe me when I say she will come to terms with your relationship with my eldest son.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. He had missed much of his mother’s life. Maybe Nerdanel knew her better indeed. There was another question nagging in him. “How do you…?”</p><p class="western">“Take the revelation of your relationship with Maitimo?”</p><p class="western">A grimace contorted Fingon’s face. Maedhros had long laid his mother-name to rest, only accepting to be called by his chosen Sindarin version. He could not forbid the mother of his beloved her choice of name. “Yes.”</p><p class="western">Nerdanel was an attentive elleth and noticed his discomfort. “I am glad my eldest son found love and it survived the oath. Everything seemed so doomed after it.”</p><p class="western">“I heard you tried to stop some of it.”</p><p class="western">A small tear ran down Nerdanel’s face. “I fought Fёanáro over my youngest, the Ambarussa. I should have fought for all of them.”</p><p class="western">“Maybe it was your fight that allowed them to come back to you first”, Fingon tried to comfort her.</p><p class="western">Nerdanel sniffled a bit. “I think they were pardoned because of their relative youth. Let’s be honest about it.”</p><p class="western">“You have fought for all of them, I heard of your pleas to Námo. He has heard you, but he can’t re-embody those who are not ready.” Fingon looked at the floor and debated with himself if he should pose the next question. “You have heard about their deeds, of all the kinslayings. In ways some of your sons are more guilty than your husband. How do you deal with this?”</p><p class="western">“Badly”, she whispered. “All I know is that I love my children as only a mother can and hope in time they will be accepted into our arms and history. And, among us two who we love kinslayers, I am not ashamed to say I hold some feelings for my stupid husband still.”</p><p class="western">“You are the first one I hear calling Fёanor stupid”, Fingon chuckled. “Manic, stubborn and insane I have heard, but stupid never.”</p><p class="western">Nerdanel actually grinned underneath her tear-streaked skin. “Oh, he was all those things and clever he was too. But stupidity is his greatest flaw. Really. I mean, how stupid can you be, listening to the likes of Melkor?”</p><p class="western">Fingon grimaced. “Again you surprise me by speaking his true name.”</p><p class="western">“Names have power and by fearing to speak his, I am giving him power over my thoughts. But otherwise, if you rather not hear it, I can keep quiet for your sake. I noticed your discomfort when I used Maitimo instead of Maedhros.”</p><p class="western">Nerdanel the Wise certainly deserved her title.</p><p class="western">“But back to your feelings for my eldest. I approve.”</p><p class="western">Fingon bowed a bit. “Thank you, aunt Nerdanel.”</p><p class="western">She seemed a bit amused. “Of course. Just, allow me one question?”</p><p class="western">“Any you wish”, Fingon said.</p><p class="western">“Who is going to join which house, should you marry?”</p><p class="western">“WHAT?”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fingon stayed the night at the castle of the High King. He did not wish to intrude upon his parents any longer and Nerdanel’s house he avoided still. He was glad she did not make some drama out of it.</p><p class="western">“Can you tell Maglor I miss him?”, she asked shortly before they parted ways. Fingon had accompanied her for a while. She was his aunt and she approved of his love for her son, this was the least he could do.</p><p class="western">“I will”, he promised. “I can’t guarantee he will ask you to speak to him though.”</p><p class="western">“I know”, she said. “I had a long conversation with Elrond about him and understand. It is. Just hard”, she said. “To know your child is sick and you can’t help them, understanding you may hurt them more than doing good.”</p><p class="western">“At least you know he is back and alive.”</p><p class="western">She looked at him. “I am sorry.”</p><p class="western">“Don’t be”, Fingon told her. “I spoke with Námo and I have hope.”</p><p class="western">Nerdanel stopped and looked at him. “Námo spoke to you?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. He needed my help with something – don’t look at me like that – and spoke to me about Maedhros.”</p><p class="western">“What did they say?”</p><p class="western">“Eventually all your sons will be returned, but their healing can not be sped up by pleading for them.”</p><p class="western">She looked at the ground. “I know. And still I wish to see my sons soon.”</p><p class="western">Fingon placed his hand gently on her upper arm. “Have you tried asking Námo for entrance to their halls?”</p><p class="western">Nerdanel shook her head. “It is illogical, but I fear the place.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They departed with promises to see each other again and Fingon strode towards the castle alone. This late at night, the streets of Tirion were almost deserted. None of the Eldar were about, sleeping in their beds. The hooves of Fingon’s horse were the only sound breaking the silence.</p><p class="western">At the castle gate, Fingon met other people awake in the dark hours, the guardians at the gate. They only nodded and let him pass. Gone were the times anyone used courtesies and great exclamations to greet Fingon. He was glad for it. At first, almost everyone in Tirion had always greeted him as ‘King’ or ‘Prince’, but he had made clear he was none of these things anymore. He had borne those titles a long time ago and was glad to be rid of them. Yes, by blood he could be considered a prince at least, but he left those honours to the children of Arafinwё.</p><p class="western">Somehow his arrival must have been signalled to the steward of the house, because once he had stabled his horse, a servant came and told him to follow. Fingon was led to a room with a clean bed and a tray with wine and bread.</p><p class="western">“How long do you plan to stay, Lord Findekáno?”, the steward asked.</p><p class="western">Lord was an acceptable term, Fingon deemed. These people would always find a title for him it seemed. “I will only stay the night. With the light of the morning, my way will lead me to Tol Eresseä.”</p><p class="western">The steward nodded. “The High King wished to meet you in the small hall for breakfast before you leave.”</p><p class="western">“Fine, I will be there”, Fingon answered, even if he had wished to avoid his uncle. He would have to be careful not to spill the relative news of Finrod’s hideout.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Morning came with the rising sun and a knock on the door. It was the steward from the evening before.</p><p class="western">“His Royal Highness is ready for you”, he said.</p><p class="western">Fingon was still half asleep and in bed. He looked at the blonde ellon with sharp eyes, but an equally stern expression told him he would comply. Still too tired for discussion, Fingon got out of the bed and pulled his tunic over his head. Then he followed the steward through the long hallways of the castle. He would have found his way alone of course, being accompanied just an obvious precaution by his uncle lest he tried to leave without an audience.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Uncle Arafinwё”, Fingon said, using Quenya. His uncle had never left Valinor and his Sindarin was not perfect, hence he barely used the language. It was a shame. If Arafinwё had studied the tongue with more detail, the connections to Thingol’s group could have been better. Well, the blame was not Arafinwё’s alone, Elwё still refused to learn Quenya himself.</p><p class="western">“Findekáno, good morning.”</p><p class="western">Fingon entered the small dining hall. It was deserted, his uncle the only other person in the room. Fingon did not doubt there were guards outside the doors and servants, but none of them dared to make an entrance. The table was a small one, which surprised the younger ellon. He had expected some kind of power play, but this seemed familiar, like old times. Carefully, Fingon stepped closer and sat down. A second plate was already there for him and the table held some of his favourite foods. He took a slice of bread, some butter and cheese.</p><p class="western">“You wanted to see me”, Fingon stated between bites. “Why?”</p><p class="western">“You came late to the castle, leaving your family home. I was afraid the family is breaking apart again.”</p><p class="western">Fingon swallowed down the bite. He felt no need to discuss his feelings for Maedhros with Arafinwё, who would probably be even less friendly than his mother about it. He needed to distract his uncle. “I had a smaller disagreement with my mother”, Fingon answered. “I felt unwelcome at home and chose to seek a bed at the castle.”</p><p class="western">“You are always welcome here”, Arafinwё promised. “But what made your mother react so badly.”</p><p class="western">Fingon decided to tell a half-truth. “I told her I forgive Fёanor’s sons.”</p><p class="western">“Indeed a dangerous statement”, Finarfin said. “Especially among people who have been greatly affected by their deeds.”</p><p class="western">“I am making my peace with the past”, Fingon added. “I will welcome my cousins at the time of their return and lay aside the discord within the Finwёan family. Maybe the time has come for us all to accept our marred past.”</p><p class="western">“You speak as if it would be easy. There are many still holding the Noldor accountable for all the evil that has befallen this realm. If we openly welcome all our murderous kin, relations to the neighbouring kingdoms will worsen.”</p><p class="western">“Uncle, they will all be reborn, sooner or later. All we can do is being prepared. We should give them a second chance, as Manwё did with Melkor.”</p><p class="western">Arafinwё sighed. “And look where this has gotten us.”</p><p class="western">Argumentation with the ways of the Valar was always dangerous, but something Arafinwё listened too. He was also one of the generation coined by the old customs.</p><p class="western">“If Námo releases our dead it means the Valar have granted them the second chance”, Fingon said. “I think we should not question their decision. Because otherwise, I would have to be banned also, for I am a kinslayer too.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fingon had no idea if his words would ever change anything. Arafinwё was stubborn and believed in his ways. Through this, he provided stability for the Noldor of old. With the new days, some things had to change though, because otherwise the Noldor as a group would loose. Should the Fёanorions be released, they needed someone to stand beside them. Fingon would, as would some of the returned elves, but the rest? It had too much potential for a new division in elven culture.</p><p class="western">On the other hand, Fingon did not really care for the politics of the situation right now. Maybe Turgon was right, in building a city of his own, as separate political power. Not that Fingon planned to do the same with the cabin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This work takes a lot out of me, Fingon's mood is not the easiest to get into. Btw, I am going to add some Russingon in the future of my other current long fic.<br/>Next update, next week, until then :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Maglor's decision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 3 has now art, a sketch of Fingon's bay</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Leaving Tirion, Fingon breathed in the clear air. The meeting had not gone over as well as he had hoped. It could have gone worse, this much as true. He should have expected his mother to be furious. She had grown up with the Laws and Customs given by the Valar and had always been devout. It was why she had remained in Valinor, separated from Fingolfin who had gone after Fёanor. Fingon could not hater her for it. Anairё’s views were outdated, yes, had been since the his birth in fact, but they had served her well during the later Ages still. Now, the emerging of the new realms had driven her more and more into her own beliefs and it would take her time. Hopefully Fingon’s relationship to his mother would improve before the remaking of Arda. Elves could hold grudges for many years. Thingol was the best example. Which led Fingon to his thoughts concerning the Teleri and Sinda again. None of those were particular good way his mind could go.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">He rode around Alqualondё again, not allowed to enter the city. He would have to ask for an audience with King Olwё sooner rather than later, but the conversation with his parents had been enough complicated talk for a while. Not that the meeting with Elrond would be less stressing. He had promised Maglor though, so he made his way to the ferry again.</p>
<p class="western">Thankfully the weather was still good enough for the ferry to pass without getting thrown around by the waves. Fingon had never gotten over his dislike for ships, ever since he saw the glow of the swan ships burning on the horizon. Stepping onto the planks of a ship made him a bit anxious. For this reason, he leaned against the side of the boat, holding his face towards the island. The wind was coming from the open sea, a cool breeze into his face. When he opened his mouth, a few drops of salt water landed on his tongue. It reminded him of the many tears he had shed. Now he was finally learning to comprehend, but it was slow process.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The Teleri steering the ferry did not pay Fingon much attention this time. He was sure they recognized him, he wore his hair with his customary ribbons after all, but he was left in peace. The captain just nodded politely when Fingon led his horse down onto the gangway.</p>
<p class="western">From the shores of Tol Eresseä it was only a short ride to Elrond’s house. In the midday light of the sun, the building was a sight to see. This time, there was someone in the small front garden, tending to the bushes there. Fingon recognized her to be Celebrían, daughter of Galadriel and wedded to Elrond. He unmounted as she straightened up, having heard the hooves of his horse.</p>
<p class="western">“Uncle Fingon!”, she said in greeting and seemed so very young for a moment.</p>
<p class="western">“Lady Celebrían.”</p>
<p class="western">She shook her head. “No titles within the family, please.”</p>
<p class="western">“It was not a title”, Fingon answered grinning, “merely an observation.”</p>
<p class="western">“Charmer.” She rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her gown, decidedly less lady-like. “Come in, there’s food for you in the kitchen.”</p>
<p class="western">“Did you know I was coming?”</p>
<p class="western">“There are two people in this house gifted with foresight. Yes, we had a feeling you would show up today.”</p>
<p class="western">Sometimes Fingon forgot this little gift some of his relatives possessed. He was glad it had passed him over, he would probably have gone mad in Beleriand, if he had gotten visions. What he said was: “Then I am glad for it, for I am hungry indeed.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">In the kitchen, Elrond already awaited them. Celebrían went to him and placed a kiss apon her husband’s forehand. He returned the gesture and caressed her face for a moment. Fingon turned his eyes to the ground to not disturb their intimate moment by staring at them.</p>
<p class="western">“Your salve has amazing healing properties”, Elrond remarked as Fingon was just putting a spoon full of vegetable stew into his mouth.</p>
<p class="western">He swallowed the tasty food down and nodded. “It’s a recipe from the Avari, I think it got lost after the flood.”</p>
<p class="western">“Which is a shame.” Elrond sighed. “I wish I had learned it, but Maedhros never spoke of the treatment, even as I was starting to learn to be a healer.”</p>
<p class="western">“I doubt he knew the recipe. It was I who made the salve for him, it gave me a nice excuse to travel to Himring in the early years.”</p>
<p class="western">“You had to find excuses?”</p>
<p class="western">“My father thought I was giving Himring more thought than it was due. With ‘sustaining the relations to the Fёanorians’ I was on the sa<span>f</span>e side.”</p>
<p class="western">Elrond nodded. “Were the relations then so strained?”</p>
<p class="western">“Less with Maedhros’ people, but some of his brothers were. A bit short tempered.”</p>
<p class="western">“I can imagine. Even Maglor had his moments during my childhood.”</p>
<p class="western">“Speaking of Maglor, how is he today?”</p>
<p class="western">“During breakfast he was of good spirits”, Celebrían relayed. “He said, your salve helps with the pain and stiffness a bit.”</p>
<p class="western">“I am glad for this development. But I hope he does not expect for the scars to ever go away. He has seen Maedhros after all, but some of his complaints should be lessened.”</p>
<p class="western">“I do not think he expected much”, Elrond told him. “He almost seemed surprised at feeling better.”</p>
<p class="western">“Understandable, after all these years of exile. Will he meet me today?”</p>
<p class="western">Celebrían smiled. “I think so. This morn, he asked for you, told me he would have to thank you for your help.”</p>
<p class="western">“He does not have to thank me. Preparing and sharing the recipe was the least I could do.”</p>
<p class="western">“You can go up to him whenever you want”, Elrond added. “Just remember to knock.”</p>
<p class="western">“I will”, Fingon promised.</p>
<p class="western">He did not go up to his cousin immediately. Instead, he remained with Elrond and Celebrían in the kitchen for while longer. They talked a bit more of their lives, Fingon sharing some stories of Hithlum and Elrond told some of Imladris. All of them had places their heart clung to, even if Fingon’s had already sunken to the bottom of the sea.</p>
<p class="western">“Not all of them”, Elrond interjected. “Parts of Himring still stood, now a ruined island. I saw it in the passing.”</p>
<p class="western">“Himring survived?”</p>
<p class="western">Elrond shook his head. “A Ruin, but above the waves. Let the knowledge soothe you, not all of your <span>lands are</span> lost. Neither of us will ever see them again, for it is on the shore we left.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Maglor was in good spirits when Fingon met him. He thanked him for the salve and visit. Something seemed to burn within the minstrel’s fёa, a question unasked. Fingon realized it, but did not enquire. Maglor would speak if he deemed it the right moment. Even in Beleriand, the singer had never lost his way with words and it seemed he was regaining his wits.</p>
<p class="western">They talked for a while, about nothing in particular. Fingon recounted a few recent memories he formed at the bay he was now living at and of Finrod’s companionship.</p>
<p class="western">"<a id="dictEntry10000118410" name="dictEntry10000118410"></a>You have truly built a log cabin by yourself?”, Maglor asked incredulous.</p>
<p class="western">“It is more of a small house, one and a half stories high. The living quarters and storage space is on the ground floor, the bedrooms underneath the roof.”</p>
<p class="western">“Sounds like it took a long time for you to built it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Not really.” Fingon shrugged. “I know some things about building and with the help of the sea and my horses, some things were doable alone.”</p>
<p class="western">“Do you have room for guests?”, Maglor enquired.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked him in the eyes. The minstrel did not avoid his gaze, he held his ground. “Why do you ask?”</p>
<p class="western">“I want to leave the island as soon as possible”, Maglor said.</p>
<p class="western">“Again, why?”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor looked out of the window. “Elrond pretends to not hear them, but there are many inhabitants on the island who protest my staying here. It’s mainly Teleri land and I understand why they want me gone.”</p>
<p class="western">“Elrond would never force you to go”, Fingon interjected. “I get the feeling he would rather fight his distant kin for your sake.”</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t want to force the decision on him, whether to stand up for me or loose his friends here. I was rather hoping you could offer me shelter at your cabin.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked at the floor. “There is a guest room still empty”, he acknowledged. “I have to ask Finrod first, if he is alright with you coming to life with us.”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor smiled sadly. “That is all I can ask for. Now tell me, do you know what changes have happened in music, have the humans new instruments, what do you know?”</p>
<p class="western">A bit taken aback by the sudden shift in topic, Fingon scrambled for answers. He had no idea about human developments as he saw less of Middle-Earth than Maglor, but at least Valinorean changes he could talk about.</p>
<p class="western">Only at the end of their meeting, Fingon turned back to their earlier conversation.</p>
<p class="western">“I will come back with Finrod’s answer as soon as I can”, he promised. “But, can you do me a favour too?”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor nodded. “I will try.”</p>
<p class="western">“Talk to your mother. Nerdanel, she misses you.”</p>
<p class="western">“You spoke with her?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon swallowed. “Yes. She was there, yesterday, when I spoke with my parents. She was the most understanding one.”</p>
<p class="western">“You told them about you and Maedhros?”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes.” Fingon sighed. “It went horrible.”</p>
<p class="western">“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p class="western">“Your mother reacted very positively. She was amazing really. I had expected her to be a bit upset.”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor sighed. “I will meet her.”</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t want to force you”, Fingon said. “Just, she asked to ask you and I think talking to her will do you good. Though I am not a healer and my advice may be moot.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Later, Fingon joined Elrond, Celebrían and Gilgalad in the small garden. They were sitting comfortably on a bench, Celebrían in the middle. The picture was very domestic. Something seemed a bit strange to Fingon, but he ignored the feeling.</p>
<p class="western">“How was your meeting with Maglor?”, Gilgalad asked.</p>
<p class="western">“He asked me, if he could move to my cabin somewhen in the future.”</p>
<p class="western">Elrond looked up at Fingon. “He spoke to me about it.”</p>
<p class="western">“And your opinion?”</p>
<p class="western">“He thinks he’s imposing on me. He isn’t, but he feels like it. I can’t deny him his choice. If he wants to go, I will let him.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon crouched down a bit. “You do not want him to go.”</p>
<p class="western">Elrond sighed. “It will be good for him, getting away from this island, back to the mainland. It just feels like he’s leaving me. Again.”</p>
<p class="western">Ereinion stood up and changed his place. He crouched beside Elrond and laid an arm on his shoulders. “This time, you will know where he’s gone and we can visit.” He threw a warning glance at Fingon.</p>
<p class="western">It would not have been necessary. “Of course you can visit”, he promised. He would have to have a serious conversation with Finrod, of how ‘exiled’ their Exile should remain and how to include Maglor.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Riding back home towards his cabin, Fingon thought about Maglor’s plea some more. He doubted Finrod would forbid their cousin from joining them. It would mean they would have to make some changes within their arrangement, especially concerning the right for visitation Fingon had promised Elrond. Truth be told, he doubted moving Maglor would be possible without Elrond’s help. Not because he feared the Teleri or Sinda who would hate to see their foe, but because of the Fёanorion’s health. He was far from fine. Fingon was no healer, but even he could see it. As an observer, he wasn’t sure if Maglor’s decision was right. On the other hand, he would not deny his cousin. If Fingon had felt out of place, what was Maglor feeling?</p>
<p class="western">There was so much to do and for the days he rode, Fingon was not sure if he reached a conclusion. He did not know what to do. He knew he would gladly take Maglor in and care for him. Fingon would do everything for the people sharing his home. And yet he knew, he would have to travel again, there were still several people he had to meet and at the end of the way… At the end of the way…</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">He would finally go to the Halls, to Maedhros.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Preparation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Fingon told Finrod about Maglor’s decision as soon as he was at the cabin.</p>
<p class="western">“We might be getting another recluse living here”, he said at the kitchen table.</p>
<p class="western">Finrod nodded and swept his hair behind his ears. “Who is it? Aredhel? I thought she found a home with some new faction?”</p>
<p class="western">“Maglor asked me if he could come here, once he feels ready.”</p>
<p class="western">“Maglor?”, Finrod asked unbelieving. “I thought he would stay with Elrond or Nerdanel.”</p>
<p class="western">“Apparently the Teleri on Tol Eresseä don’t like the presence of Fёanorion on their island overly much. And he doesn’t want to go to Tirion either. Elrond must have told him about our little hideout and now he seems poised to come here.”</p>
<p class="western">“And what does Elrond have to say to this?”</p>
<p class="western">“He’s agreeable.”</p>
<p class="western">“Agreeable”, Finrod repeated.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “He’s not thrilled, letting his father go. Again I might add, but he does not wish to stop Maglor from doing something potentially helpful for his recovery.”</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t see how joining us, another exile, will do him good.”</p>
<p class="western">“Elrond was not against it and he’s the healer and <span>Maglor’s</span> son. He should know.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod nodded. “Fair.”</p>
<p class="western">“Also, we need to make space, either for another cabin or for tents. Otherwise it’s going to be really crowded once Maglor is living with us”, Fingon informed his blonde cousin.</p>
<p class="western">“I would favour building another cabin”, Finrod proposed. “The weather here can be truly unsuitable for tents, as you should very well know.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon just nodded. There had been some truly terrifying storms so far. One time, the sea had almost spilled over the dunes, which would have flooded their living quarters. Afterwards, the two elves had made some changes to the cabin. They had buried some tree trunks deep in the sand, as anchors and used t<span>ar to seal their home should the flood inevitably reach their cabin one day.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Building another cabin with just us two is going to take a long time”, Fingon commented. “And I doubt Yvanna will be pleased if we take some of her trees without asking.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>We will do the same </span><span>every Noldor</span><span> do</span><span>es when felling a tree</span><span>, Finrod said. “We will plant a new one in it’s stead of it’s fruits, so life will be restored. </span><span>I doubt the Lady of the Woods will refuse the deal she made with our people long ago.</span><span>”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>F</span>
  <span>ingon agreed with him, even though a bit of doubt remained in him. Otherwise, Finrod was correct, this deal existed. It was strange for him to think about it now. When he had built the first cabin, Fingon had thought not much about these things. Maybe now that he was on speaking terms with Námo, he cared more for the other Valar too? </span>
  <span>He shoved the thoughts aside.</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">That evening, alone in his room, Fingon took the wooden box Elrond had given him to store the single ribbon in and opened it. Inside lay the ribbon, like the last time he had seen it. Carefully, Fingon took it out of it’s new storing place and looked at it closer. Yes, it was damaged, by battle and time, but these were not the only marks on it. This one did not only bear marks of the last battle. Looking closer at it, there was distinct wear on the golden band, as if someone had used it to wrap it around something, repeatedly. It showed in small disturbances of the lengthwise threads. The realization came slowly. Both Elrond and Gilgalad had spoken of Maedhros using the ribbons he left to wrap them around the end of his right arm. He had told Elrond it had lessened the pain. Even after so many years, Maedhros had not forgotten about him, had found solace in the memory of them! A single tear ran down Fingon’s cheek, threatening to fall on the delicate piece of fabric.</p>
<p class="western">He put it back into the box and set it onto his dresser. Fingon crawled into his bed and hid underneath his many layers of blankets. The warmth did not seem to come, so he pulled his legs up into a fetal position.</p>
<p class="western">After some time, warmth started to grow and Fingon finally fell asleep.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The next day, Fingon and Finrod sat together, starting to plan the new cabin they wanted to built. There were a few things they both wanted, so it took them some time. Because they would not be able to get enough stone to their location and a forest was near, it was clear their new house must be built out of logs, just like the one they were already living in.</p>
<p class="western">“How did you do it, building this house all by yourself?”, Finrod asked.</p>
<p class="western">“I had a saw and some other tools. And time”, Fingon replied and shrugged. “Took me some time to figure everything out, but the experiences from Beleriand came in handy.</p>
<p class="western">“And how long will this endeavour take us?”, Finrod wanted to know. “I have never built much of this size in my time. Even in Nargothrond, I was mostly tasked with the planning and approving of everything.”</p>
<p class="western">“Months”, Fingon said. “But when were finished, we will have so much more space and maybe you or Maglor can have larger rooms. I know the currents situation is not ideal, living under the roof.”</p>
<p class="western">“For me it is alright, but you’re correct, three old elves in the small house could lead to tensions.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">With this, it was decided. They would built another small house, for Maglor and Finrod and eventual guests. The new cabin would not have a kitchen, but a hearth and a small bathroom. All else would be for storage</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">It took them multiple months to get the small house ready. During the time, neither Fingon nor Finrod left their cosy home often. Fingon spent his nights often staring at the stars or holding the ribbon. He only went to Maglor twice to help prepare more of the salve. Aredhel and Gilgalad became their messengers and confidantes, the communication to the other elves.</p>
<p class="western">No word came from Anairё and Fingolfin, which led Fingon to believe his mother was still in anger about his revelation. He would not beg for her forgiveness. Never. His feelings for Maedhros were nothing he would apologize for. Building the cabin occupied Fingon’s mind a lot, it distracted him from the travels he would soon have to make. The day Finrod helped him to fix the last piece of the roof construction, Gilgalad was visiting again.</p>
<p class="western">“I have news from Elrond. He deems Maglor ready to travel.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod actually smiled. “What a coincidence, we just finished a hut to expand our living space.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked at the red and yellow leaves still clinging to the nearby trees. “It is autumn”, he said. “The nights are getting colder. Are you sure Elrond deems it wise..?” He left the last part of the question unspoken. Of course, he knew of Maglor’s wishes, but the old minstrel had not been in the best of minds last he saw him.</p>
<p class="western">“I trust Elrond”, Gilgalad said. “He as a healer should know.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod nodded. “I never met him, but I gather he is wise in his words.”</p>
<p class="western">“That would be an understatement. He is the wisest ellon I know.”</p>
<p class="western">“And who would be the wisest elleth?”, Fingon asked with mischief. Again, he was surprised how much affection lay in his son’s voice when he spoke about Elrond.</p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad grinned. “Galadriel.”</p>
<p class="western">“Ha”, Fingon snorted. He remembered the time of his cousin’s youth very well. Nerwen they had called her, for she had been stubborn and short tempered, almost a bit like the middle Fёanorions. But she had changed during the years in Beleriand and had been a wise leader during the second and third Age, so Fingon was probably judging her ill.</p>
<p class="western">“What? Would you have chosen someone else?”</p>
<p class="western">“Maybe Nerdanel at a time. But you would not have known her then, only of her.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad remained for a few days with them, helping with the finishing touches on the second house. When he had nothing pressing to do, Fingon used the time to prepare some things. He would have to make another travel before going to get Maglor. He had promised Elrond he would face the Teleri before going to the Halls and he would do it. He had prepared already some things. A bag with food, new ribbons and a robe suitable for court. HE had also sent a message ahead to King Olwё, asking for an audience. No answer had been given, but Fingon hoped for some luck.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The day they departed, Gilgalad rode with Fingon. They agreed to travel together for most of the way. On the shores near Alqualondё they would separate. Gilgalad would take the ferry, going on ahead to Elrond’s house, where he seemed to dwell these days. Fingon would go alone to the city. The prospect made him a bit anxious, he knew of the ban he was challenging with his request. The murderers of the first kinslaying were not welcome in the city they destroyed and Fingon was guilty.</p>
<p class="western">“What are you thinking about?”, Gilgalad asked from the side. He was sitting upon a well trained mare with dark brown fur.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shook himself a bit. “About the welcome I will get. In Alqualondё.”</p>
<p class="western">“Probably none at all. King Olwё has not responded to your request, did he?”</p>
<p class="western">“No, but getting a message to me is a bit difficult.”</p>
<p class="western">“It is”, Gilgalad agreed. “Not many are aware of your current place of living.”</p>
<p class="western">“If someone needs to find me, they just need to follow the path”, Fingon joked. Indeed, his many travels in the past had left their traces. He and Gilgalad were currently following the trail of bare earth, a product of hooves and feet stomping down the grass. Some of it was now covered with the red leaves of autumn, but it was still visible enough. “But seriously, I am still glad for the relative solitude at the bay.”</p>
<p class="western">“It is a beautiful place”, Gilgalad agreed. “I would have never thought of exploring these lands.”</p>
<p class="western">“Almost nobody did”, Fingon said. “As Arafinwё told me, the lands were considered sacred for a long time, even though non of the Valar claimed them. So I chose to go and find a place for me.”</p>
<p class="western">“If you get Maedhros back, will you take him to your bay?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon looked aside. This he had no plans for. It depended on so many ifs. Would he even be able to get his love back? And what would Maedhros wish for? All he said was: “I do not know.”</p>
<p class="western">And Gilgalad just nodded in silent understanding.</p>
<p class="western">Together they passed through the forest, their horses calm and no danger anywhere. The path led them along a shallow river. Red and orange coloured leaves drifted in the current. Again, Fingon was reminded of Maedhros’ hair.</p>
<p class="western">“You miss him”, Gilgalad whispered.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes”, Fingon confessed. “Though I think it is hardly a secret.”</p>
<p class="western">“I was wondering when you would go to the Halls.”</p>
<p class="western">“Soon. Now, I have to go to Alqualondё and then accompany Maglor home. After this, I will set my path to Maedhros.”</p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad nodded. “I will come with you that day, father.”</p>
<p class="western">And Fingon smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Elves of Alqualondё</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Facing the Teleri again was not the most desirable thing on Fingon’s list. He has to do it though. There was no other way, if he wanted to come to terms with his past and be ready for Maedhros’ return one day. He travelled a long way with Gilgalad, but at the ferry, the former elven king bid him farewell. Fingon just stood there and watched the ship for a while. The ship was safe. The Teleri had agreed to offer anyone transportation, regardless of their history. Entrance to Alqualondё was an entirely different matter. The city had now a wall and gates, which were patrolled and guarded. No other city in Valinor was protected in such a way, but nobody dared to criticize the Teleri people. Too much of their blood had been spilled on these shores and this was their right. Fingon already felt like an intruder. The closer he walked to the gate, the stronger the feeling got. He was not welcome here, he knew. Twice already he had travelled to the city of Alqualondё with his parents on diplomatic mission, but he had remained outside. Now he intended to pass through the gates and walk towards the court of King Olwё. He was almost certain the guards would not let go into the city.</p><p class="western">This time, he took the minutes to look at the wall. It was distinctly Noldorin of style. Fingon supposed the remaining parts of his people must have built it as way of offering reparations. No stone could ever be set in exchange for a life. Apparently the elves of old had not learned this lesson well.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As expected, the guards immediately recognized him. It was no wonder, really. The Noldor and the Teleri had been close once, their royal families married together. They still were, elven marriages were something stable. From his work with Fingolfin, Fingon knew enough of the new politics. The Teleri and the Noldor were on good terms, but the city of Alqualondё was off limits for anyone who had bloodied their hands during the first kinslaying. Their offspring however did not fall under the same rule.</p><p class="western">Fingon, who had a lot of blood on his hands, had no right to try to enter the city and the guards pointed their spears into his direction.</p><p class="western">“You have no right to enter”, the bigger one of the two told him.</p><p class="western">Fingon swallowed down his nervousness. His father had been allowed into the city twice after his rebirth, so there must be a way around the ruling. “I come to seek audience and counsel with King Olwё.”</p><p class="western">“On what matter?”, the second guard asked unfriendly</p><p class="western">“It is no business but my own.”</p><p class="western">“Then turn around and do not return, kinslayer you are and banished from the city you shall remain.”</p><p class="western">Formal speech always sounded so pretentious. Fingon still knew how to use it, he had had to learn it himself long ago. “Son of Kings I am and King I was. I seek counsel from my distant kinsman and you shall let me pass.” He tried to use as much of his strength as he was able and put them behind his words. “Tell King Olwё of the Teleri a King of the Noldor wishes to speak to him.”</p><p class="western">The guards yielded and put their weapons down.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“King no longer you are”, Olwё said when they led Fingon to his throne.</p><p class="western">“Indeed”, Fingon sighed. “But my former title is not why I am here.”</p><p class="western">“You are here out of the same reason your father visited us years ago.”</p><p class="western">“Probably”, Fingon said. “He never told me his reasons for his audience with you.”</p><p class="western">Olwё leant back in his throne of seashells. The chair was made from dead corals and decorated with them all over. It was a not so subtle nod to the history of the Teleri people and their love for the sea. “Your father came to apologize for his part in the first kinslaying.”</p><p class="western">“Then I am not so different from him”, Fingon said. “I would tell you about the day in my own words, if it would please you.”</p><p class="western">“It does not please me”, Olwё s<span>tated</span>. “I do not like to have this horrible day recounted every so often. It is not a memory anyone in this hall wishes to dwell on.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. “I shall keep my tongue if you do wish so.”</p><p class="western">Olwё shook his head. “No, you speak your peace, Son of Nolofinwё.”</p><p class="western">Again, Fingon felt unsure. He was about to drag out the old hurts of this king and his people, for his own gain. He needed the closure, but at which cost? He also realized he would have to tell them some measure of the truth. Why he had been so viscous at these shores.</p><p class="western">He knelt down onto the floor and began speaking. “I came late to the shores, when the scent of blood was already in the air and the sound of swords loud. All I saw was Maedhros, my oldest friend and confidante, surrounded by three of your people, about to be slain. For the love I held for him, I entered the fighting, keeping his back until the silence fell. I did never question the side I was standing on, never during this slaughter and for it I am sorry. I had known about the madness slowly festering in Fёanáro, but I would have never thought…” Tears rolled down Fingon’s cheeks as he remembered the night, all the blood he had spilled. He was sweating, there on the floor. It made his hands sticky and he desperately wished to wash them. Right now they felt as if dipped in blood.</p><p class="western">
  
</p><p class="western">“None of us could have known”, Olwё said. “But it doesn’t make your deeds undone.”</p><p class="western">Fingon looked at his hands. “It doesn’t. All the wishing the day would have never happened is in vain.”</p><p class="western">“It is.” Olwё was unapologetic. “For many of my people, no words will let them forget the sorrow brought by you and your kin that day. This is why we do not let the Noldor of old enter the city.”</p><p class="western">“Why have you let me in?”, Fingon queried.</p><p class="western">“Because history needs to be understood, needs to be confronted. By all parties, may they be victim or perpetrator. It is the only way we elves can grow.”</p><p class="western">“You are wise, King Olwё.”</p><p class="western">“I had enough years to recount the past. Most of my people had. Only you Noldor are good at pushing aside and striving for new experiences, deeds to do.”</p><p class="western">Slowly, the cold of the stone floor began seeping through Fingon’s trousers. His knees told him, for how long he had been kneeling now. Still, his audience was not over. It was Olwё, who held the power in these halls, and ancient king to whom Fingon owed much.</p><p class="western">Olwё was not finished, it <span>was pretty clear. The king had a dangerous glint in his eyes.</span> “Do you know the names of those you slew on these shores?”</p><p class="western">Fingon swallowed hard. He would have never expected this question. It was almost a cruel one. Olwё was right, the Noldor were good at pushing their hurts and pasts aside, it was something they had to do in order to survive in Beleriand. Otherwise, the long siege of Angband would never have been possible. The problem was, Fingon remembered the faces of the Teleri who died by his hand. Those he would never forget. The name however, he knew of only one out of five. So he shook his head. “Five died by my hand. Four were not known to me. Tirmo, of your guard was the one who’s name I remember.”</p><p class="western">“The this shall be my decree. Face your past, spent a day with Tirmo, for he has been reembodied long ago.”</p><p class="western">“King Olwё”, Fingon spoke. “Do you truly think it is a good idea to confront him with my presence?”</p><p class="western">“Do you think your visit came unannounced?”</p><p class="western">“No. I sent a letter ahead and am confident you received it.”</p><p class="western">“So is it hard to imagine I set some things up?”</p><p class="western">“If my visit had been expected, why did the guard almost not let me in?”</p><p class="western">Olwё smiled. “To make sure you were honest about the reason of your visit.”</p><p class="western">“I was. And I will accept your decree”, Fingon replied. He understood the king’s reasoning, even if he thought it to be a bit over the top. Had there been Noldor who had been irresponsible before? Fingon had no way of knowing. He also dreaded a bit what was to come. Spending a day with Tirmo was not on the top of his list. Fingon feared being shouted at, or being beaten. He also recognized the old guard would have every right to enact some form of vengeance against him. It was Fingon’s sword he died by.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">By another guard, Fingon was being led away from the throne room, towards the quarter at the shore. After the end of the First Age, when Beleriand had sunken, the shores of Valinor had gotten broader, forcing the Teleri to built a new harbour and simultaneously allowing the building of new houses. To one of these new lodgings the guard led the former king.</p><p class="western">A knock at the door later, Tirmo was standing in front of Fingon. The ellon had white hair, like many of his kin. There was a visible scar on his neck. He still carried the mark of the stroke that killed him. Fingon blanched. Somehow he had imagined this day differently.</p><p class="western">“Hello Tirmo”, the dark haired ellon croaked.</p><p class="western">The old guard motioned the younger one to leave. “You can pick him up in a few hours.”</p><p class="western">Fingon did not understand, but imagined King Olwё would like to see him again before he left. It was only logical. Or at least reasonable. Olwё cared about his people a great deal and his final word wasn’t spoken yet. Fingon also had not been able to talk about the second matter he had come to talk about.</p><p class="western">“Come in”, Tirmo said and gestured to the inside of his house.</p><p class="western">Fingon had not choice but to follow. On the outside, all walls had been painted white and the same counted for the living quarters. Here, the walls were decorated with pictures and other memorabilia. Despite the smallish windows, the room was well lit.</p><p class="western">“The king sent you here.”</p><p class="western">“He did”, Fingon affirmed. “He said I could learn something.”</p><p class="western">“I almost did not grant my King his plea to meet you.”</p><p class="western">“He would have understood.”</p><p class="western">“He would. But he is also right about many things, so I allowed you in.”</p><p class="western">“I regret ending your life”, Fingon confessed.</p><p class="western">Tirmo shook his head. “You may regret it now. Will you tell me why I had to die?”</p><p class="western">Fingon hated the conversation already. There was one thing he remembered. “You were trying to slay Maedhros, whom I protected.”</p><p class="western">“If I had succeeded, many problems of the Noldor would have been solved.”</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>If you had succeeded, my life would have been the next one you could have taken. </span>
  <span>And let’s face it, Fёanor would have killed every last one of your people </span>
  <span>in revenge</span>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>T</span>
  <span>irmo nodded grimly. “You may be correct. Once you had control over the ships, you did not care for the refugees anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>It was the truth. </span>
  <span>
    <span>Some </span>
  </span>
  <span>of the Teleri had been able to flee, for which Fingon had been glad. Still the guilt weighed heavily on his fёa. </span>
  <span>There was nothing to be done about this. The talk with Tirmo was doing the one thing Olwё had promised. It helped Fingon process the first kinslaying.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>T</span>
  <span>he old guard was silent for a while, watching Fingon with his clever eyes. The gaze felt a bit uncomfortable, but the former king let the other have the moments. After a few moments, Tirmo spoke again. “You have had feelings for Maedhros, beyond those of an estranged cousin, right?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>How did everyone know? Fingon realized his words about protecting Maedhros must have revealed his not-so-secret. </span>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="western">“Were they reciprocated?”</p><p class="western">“Yes.”</p><p class="western">“I’m sorry.”</p><p class="western">
  <span>Another common response. Fingon hated the pity. There was nothing to pity him for. </span>
  <span>On the other hand, those elves must think his feelings either unreturned or going nowhere, with Maedhros in the halls still. “Don’t be. We had many years in Beleriand. </span>
  <span>But enough of me. Tell me, what has become of you?”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>F</span>
  <span>ingon remained at Tirmo’s house for a few hours. </span>
  <span>He listened to the many stories the old guard told, of his own rebirth and his life afterwards. Of the other Teleri reborn, helping each other. In turn, Fingon shared some of Beleriand and what had happened after his own rebirth. </span>
  <span>He left the house with </span>
  <span>a better feeling than he had entered with. </span>
  <span>He wished Tirmo all the best. Also, maybe, they would meet again one day. It was highly unlikely to be in the near future, Fingon had many plans for the weeks to come.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>W</span>
  <span>ith the land so changed, it was hard to make out the place the old harbour had been, but after a few minutes of walking, Fingon found a small memorial. </span>
  <span>As customary, there were many shells on the floor around the stone, which must have been created by a talented mason. </span>
  <span>The top of the memorial was a swan and underneath, a</span>
  <span>n</span>
  <span> inscription told about the Flight of the Noldor. The backside named the </span>
  <span>first victims of the slaughter. </span>
  <span>Two of the names were very familiar. The first was the name of the ellon who had tried to negotiate with Fёanor, the fifth was felled by Maedhros </span>
  <span>
    <span>hands. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The few tapestries Fingon had seen of the past had told him this much. At his own actions, he had never been able to look at.</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>T</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he guard accompanying Fingon was beginning to get impatient after a while, but he got ignored. Of course the dark haired ellon was aware of the angry murmurs of the elves around them. It was not every day one of the guilty ones came to their haven, but with the guard nearby, Fingon felt safe.</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <span>We should go back to the palace soon, my Lord”, the guardian insisted.</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>F</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>ingon shook his head. “Just a few moments, I will be finished soon.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">In the end, he lacked an idea how to convey his sorrow appropriately, so Fingon just bowed there in front of all the people. They should see he was confronting his past, saying ‘Yes, I did this. It was wrong’.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>B</span>
  <span>ack in the palace, the King was already waiting. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I heard you followed my command and spoke with Tirmo”, </span>
  <span>
    <span>he</span>
  </span>
  <span>i stated </span>
  <span>and leaned a bit forward on his seashell throne.</span>
</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. “I did. It has been enlightening. I am grateful for his kindness.”</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Have you learned the lesson intended?”</span>
</p><p class="western">“I have learned more than expected and parted with Tirmo amicably.”</p><p class="western">
  <span>K</span>
  <span>ing Olwё nodded and grew very serious.</span>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>Remember though, the Teleri are not the only group of elvenkind you wronged.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>This rubbed Fingon instantly the wrong way. He knew of course to what the King in front of him was referring to, but in this case, he had had no hand in it. </span>
  <span>“I personally had a hand in only one of the kinslayings”, Fingon corrected. </span>
  <span>His protective streak for Maedhros also reared it’s ugly head, strengthened by Gilgalad and Elrond’s words.</span>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>
    <span>F</span>
  </span>
  <span>or your brother’s and his family’s fate, </span>
  <span>
    <span>there were many factors in their downfall</span>
  </span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>Fёanorions</span>
  <span> were their father’s heirs, bound by his cruel </span>
  <span>oath. </span>
  <span>May I say, i</span>
  <span>f your brother would have given the stone to one of the brothers, maybe history would have been different.” </span>
  <span>Fingon shut his mouth, </span>
  <span>instantly aware of the spectacle he was making of himself. He should be a skilled diplomat, having been a king himself. Not some blabbering fool who was stomping on the feelings of another member of the royalty.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Instead, the Teleri King deflated a bit. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>This I won’t deny”, Olwё conceded. “Still, I would welcome it if the Noldor and Sindar of old would be more civil with each other.” </span>
  <span>The king sighed and Fingon understood him well.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>The relations between the Noldor and Thingol’s kin were abysmal if Fingon was honest. In the time he had been working with Arafinwё, not even a trade agreement had been finalized, because one party was </span>
  <span>being difficult on purpose. In the end, all contact had to happen through messengers, because neither were the Noldor diplomats allowed to enter the forest of Thingol, nor did his want to go to Tirion. Arafinwё had given up after ten years of fruitless message sending.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <span>With the Sons of Fёanor returning”, the relations are not going to improve”, Fingon remarked.</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Olwё’s mood soured. “Unfortunately. With the Ambarussa back, the other’s will probably follow.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <span>Do you sigh because you hate them or because you dislike the diplomatic problems this will cause?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <span>I do not begrudge them their rebirth”, Olwё clarified. “</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Should they be reborn, it is Námo’s decision an</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>d</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> no Teleri will </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>protest or</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> raise their hand against them.”</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>H</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>ope bloomed in Fingon’s heart. “Can I have this in written form?”</span>
  </span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <span>F</span>
  <span>ingon left Alqualondё the next morning, </span>
  <span>a letter with the seal of the Teleri King weighing down his pockets.</span>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter!<br/>Until next week,<br/>Sylanna</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Towards Home Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I managed to write a lot of words during the last week, thank you to everyone who encouraged me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Fingon arrived at Elrond’s house in the early afternoon. He had to go to the market before setting out for the sanctuary of the peredhel. Some things had to be bought for the settlement at the bay, among them some metres of fabric. This was something neither Fingon nor Finrod knew how to create, so they had to buy it.</p><p class="western">In front of the house stood three packed horses, two with a saddle. As agreed upon beforehand, Elrond would travel with them to the bay, making sure Maglor made the trip and settled in well.</p><p class="western">Nobody greeted Fingon at the entrance, but by now he knew where to search for the inhabitants of the house. He found them in the garden, caught in a low conversation.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Elrond said goodbye to Celebrían first, who stood aside next to Gilgalad. Fingon’s son spent a lot of time at the peredhel’s house. The half-elf embraced his wife and kissed her deeply. He turned then to Gilgalad and embraced him too, putting a chaste kiss onto his forehead. Fingon smiled at the scene and turned away to give the three some privacy to say farewell. He went to Maglor, who was waiting for him.</p><p class="western">“Elrond is coming?”, the old minstrel asked. He was standing with the grey mare his son had gifted him. When Fingon had approached, Maglor had sung in a low volume to the horse, maybe forging some kind of bond. Ever had the animals listened to his voice.</p><p class="western">“Yes. He’s saying goodbye to Celebrían and Gilgalad.”</p><p class="western">“They won’t come with us.”</p><p class="western">“They won’t”, Fingon agreed. “I don’t think Celebrían likes to travel much.”</p><p class="western">“She doesn’t”, Maglor revealed. “I think it’s her scars, they bother her from time to time.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. He had seen some of the Lady’s scars and knew of her pains. As Maglor, the scar tissue would fade with time and good care, but the pain sometimes could still flare. Even Maedhros had had day where he had been barely able to leave the bed.</p><p class="western">“And Gilgalad will stay with her”, Maglor mused. “Do you think he will visit us at your place soon.”</p><p class="western">“Might be, he came by often in the past months.” A fact which Fingon had liked very much. Now he was able to spent some days with his son, without interruptions by politics.</p><p class="western">“I am glad Elrond is coming with us.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. In a way, he was glad too. Elrond was a healer and Maglor’s son. Even if he would not stay long with them, he could make sure his father settled in well. At least this way, Maglor would be taken care of in the time of readjustment.</p><p class="western">Finally Elrond joined them and they mounted their horses and they departed.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The Teleri on the ferry were used to Fingon by now, but transporting Maglor, who was one of the elves responsible for so much sorrow, got some stern looks. Instead of returning the almost threatening glances, the minstrel seemed to draw back, trying to hide between the three horses.</p><p class="western">It told Fingon enough to change the route of their travel. His former plan had been to take the passage to Tirion and ride around the city. Now he was painfully aware how uncomfortable and possibly harmful this could become to Maglor. The path leading by the castle of Formenos would be the better choice. At this time of the year, the mountains should not yet been covered by snow, so the way should be open. With a few words he told Elrond about this option and the peredhel agreed readily.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The castle of Formenos was merely a ruin when Fingon saw it in the distance. Nerdanel, to whom it should belong, must have left it to fall to ruin. She wasn’t to fault for it. It had never been her home, when Fёanor had moved there, she had remained in Tirion, their marriage already strained. Fingon also had no love left for the dark building. He did not know how Maglor felt about it though.</p><p class="western">“Elrond, look”, the old minstrel said a few minutes later.</p><p class="western">The peredhel turned to his father and followed the outstretched arm to where Maglor was pointing.</p><p class="western">“This is Formenos”, Maglor explained. “The castle where father ran off to with us, after his mad decision to pull a sword on Fingon’s father. It is a ruin now”, he added sadly.</p><p class="western">“For how long did you live here?”, Elrond asked.</p><p class="western">“For too long.”</p><p class="western">Fingon swallowed. He was of the same opinion. During the time Fёanor and his family had inhabited the forsaken mountain, he had not often been allowed to visit Maedhros. “Do you miss it?”</p><p class="western">“No”, Maglor shook his head. “I mean, not all the memories of this place are bad, but this is were grandfather died and Melkor set his foot. There is nothing here for me. It deserves it’s ruin.”</p><p class="western">“Have you spoken to your mother since I saw you last?”, Fingon changed the topic.</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “Twice I could bear to speak with her.”</p><p class="western">“And?”</p><p class="western">“She is sad I have to leave Tol Eresseä and wouldn’t tell her where I will go. She understands why I can’t come with her to Tirion. One day, maybe, I will be able to set my way towards the old capital again.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. So far, Maglor sounded a lot like Finrod.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It was a long ride and for Maglor’s benefit, they made breaks often. The minstrel was still weak and holding the reins with his hands bothered him a bit. Elrond did not say a thing, but Fingon noticed anyway and planned accordingly.</p><p class="western">On the third such stop, Maglor caught on to it. “You do not have to on my account”, he offered.</p><p class="western">Fingon took it for the insecurity it was. “It is no matter. We will arrive at the bay soon enough, we are in no hurry.” He handed Maglor a pot of the salve. “Use this, I will prepare some food for us.”</p><p class="western">Elrond had listened to their conversation and came over, offering some help to his father. The healer took the salve and carefully massaged it into the skin of Maglor’s hands. Despite being blood-related, Fingon new he would never be allowed to do this for his cousin. Whilst holding the other’s hands for reassurance had been fine, this was more intimate. For Maedhros, Fingon had been the only one allowed to touch his scars. If they had not been together, Maedhros had done the application himself.</p><p class="western">The memory was bittersweet and came unbidden, it made tears well up in Fingon’s eyes. He choked them down, this was not the time to be overcome by his longing. Elrond and Maglor needed his help. Pushing aside the thoughts about Maedhros, he got to work, gathering some dry wood and dead leaves. As it was autumn now, there were many dried leaves and sticks bleached by the sun on the ground. They would burn nicely in a small fire, heating the food for the group.-</p><p class="western">Fingon heard Maglor and Elrond talking beside him as he worked. Getting the fire started on a bare patch of earth was easy. It had been hard to do on the ice, so this was definitely easier. Food the peredhel had prepared beforehand for the move of Maglor. Some stew that could be transported without cooling it and would not get bad for a few days. It just needed to be heated up, cold it would not taste as good.</p><p class="western">Whilst he watched the fire heat the pot, Fingon played a bit with his braids absent-minded. He wore again the golden ribbons he had been famed for in Beleriand and Valinor of old. The silk felt smooth under his fingertips, so different from the one ribbon that had withstood the test of time, passing from Maedhros to Elrond and back to Fingon. He had thought about keeping it on his body again, but he did not wish to damage it further, so he left it at the cabin. He would take it with him to the halls, when he finally went there to get his love back.</p><p class="western">“I think the food is ready”, Elrond interrupted his thoughts.</p><p class="western">A shudder of surprise ran through Fingon and he looked up. The peredhel was standing next to him. He still smelled faintly of the salve he had used on Maglor’s hands and had a pensive face.</p><p class="western">“It should”, the former High King replied and stood up himself, taking the one step to the fire.</p><p class="western">Elrond had been right, the stew was warm enough now to be eaten. Fingon took the pot out of the fire and poured the food into the bowls he set aside. He gave Maglor the biggest portion and Elrond seemed to approve. The minstrel needed all the sustenance he could get, he was still a bit too frail for Fingon’s tastes, but better than the day he stepped off the ship. Recovery was always a slow progress and for elves whose fёa had been touched by illness, it took even longer.</p><p class="western">“This tastes goo. Thank you, Elrond”, Maglor said after he had taken the first sip of the stew.</p><p class="western">“I am glad I remember your tastes”, the peredhel quipped. To Fingon he said: “I tried to recreate something we ate in the Fёanorian camp often. I couldn’t find all the spices though, so this is an approximation.”</p><p class="western">“I agree, it is delicious”, Fingon praised the cook.</p><p class="western">“I am glad you enjoy it too.”</p><p class="western">After the break, they made sure the fire was dead and mounted their horses again. It was still a long way to Fingon’s bay and the houses waiting for them. The sun was already setting and they would ride on until the stars came out to sparkle in the sky.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The night they spent on the ground rolled up in blankets. The nights were getting colder and Fingon awoke with stiff arms and legs. There was fog in the valley they had rested, leaving him shivering. The chill had seeped thoroughly into his skin. He stood up and looked at Elrond who had had the last watch.</p><p class="western">“Nothing of interest happened”, the peredhel informed him. “Well, twice a red fox passed by, but nothing bigger came this way.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded grateful. There were many wild predators in the forests of Valinor, but they tended to stay away from elves, as long as the elves did not harm their kin.</p><p class="western">On this day, they finally saw the coast again, from atop a hill, looking down onto the new lands. Fingon stopped his horse and watched the sea-gulls at the shore fly. It would still take them some days to reach the home he had built, but he was confident nothing bad would happen on the way. Maglor coped better with the strain than Fingon had expected.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Finrod came towards them when they passed the treeline. His blonde wavy hair flared in the wind around him. His face was a happy one.</p><p class="western">“Welcome!”, he shouted against the wind as he was still a few hundred metres off.</p><p class="western">Fingon waved in reply and told his horse to break into a canter. Shortly before he met Finrod, he commanded the mare to stop and in a flurry of sand, she did. Fingon jumped off her back and greeted his cousin. Finrod smiled at the dramatics, but gave a quick one armed hug.</p><p class="western">“It was lonely without you so long.”</p><p class="western">“You just got used to having me around”, Fingon protested, but smiled to let his friend know these words had been spoken in good humour.</p><p class="western">At the sound of hooves dulled by sand behind them, Finrod drew back and turned around. He smiled politely at Elrond, who rode in front. The moment Finrod saw Maglor for the first time in more than six thousand years was memorable.</p><p class="western">Fingon watched as Finrod became unmoving, hardly breathing for a second. How his cousins stared at each other. This reunion was a special one. Somehow Fingon realized this. He had spoken with Finrod about Maglor before, and the other way around, so he knew they had been friends. Seeing this old friendship now, thousands of years later, was soothing.</p><p class="western">“Maglor, cousin!”, Finrod exclaimed.</p><p class="western">An equally as bright appeared in Maglor’s eyes for a moment, before it dimmed down again. For a moment, Fingon almost saw the light of the trees again in the minstrel’s gaze. Maglor was the one of the few ones who still had that light in them on occasion.</p><p class="western">“Finrod”, Maglor greeted with a whisper.</p><p class="western">They became a strange procession after this, with Elrond riding in front, Fingon at the back and Maglor in the middle. Finrod walked next to Maglor’s horse, not talking but often glancing upwards.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They walked along the path of sand parallel to the sea, where only Finrod’s traces remained, through the dunes to the houses safely nestled at the edge of the forest.</p><p class="western">“This is more beautiful than I anticipated”, Maglor said loudly.</p><p class="western">“What had you expected?”, Finrod quipped. “I mean, it is simple, nothing like the architecture of Tirion…”</p><p class="western">“Small, more like tents”, Maglor confessed.</p><p class="western">Fingon grinned. This was actually how he had started out, alone with two horses, a tent and some tools. He was a bit proud of how far he had come, building the first cabin on his own.</p><p class="western">Even Elrond nodded appreciatively. “The second cabin is new, right?”, he asked.</p><p class="western">“Yes”, Finrod declared. “We built it over the last few months, since we knew Maglor was coming. The first one is just too small for so many elves and our guests.”</p><p class="western">“The new cabin is for me?”, Maglor asked unbelieving.</p><p class="western">“No only”, Finrod said and turned to Fingon. “I have taken my things there too, so we will live next to each other.”</p><p class="western">This was news to Fingon, but he nodded. “Of course.” He would have to talk with Finrod about this soon.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Elrond helped Maglor with the few things the minstrel owned, carrying them to the room Finrod had prepared for Maglor. To Fingon’s surprise, his blonde cousin had sewn a second blanket out of left-over fabric scraps for their new housemate.</p><p class="western">Whilst this happened, Finrod helped Fingon with the things he had brought with him, mostly some new fabrics he had bought before meeting with Elrond. They had needed some for curtains and clothes. It left the former High King with the option to talk with his cousin in private.</p><p class="western">“You moved to the new cabin?”</p><p class="western">Finrod nodded. “I am under no illusion you will go for Maedhros soon.”</p><p class="western">“But I would not have thrown you out of the old cabin, it’s your home.”</p><p class="western">“Maglor needs someone, as you very well know. Me being in the room next to him is the best solution, don’t you deny it.”</p><p class="western">Finrod was right on both assumptions. It was truly better if someone stayed close to Maglor, in case he had a nightmare or simply needed someone. Also, Fingon was planning to go to the halls when the winter was over and spring came once again. If he succeed with his quest, there would be another inhabitant moving in.</p><p class="western">“I just, would have preferred if he had talked about this earlier”, Fingon said. “The information was a bit startling.”</p><p class="western">“I’m sorry?”, Finrod said and looked sheepish. “The idea came to me while you were away.”</p><p class="western">“It’s alright, I approve.”</p><p class="western">“Thank you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Fathers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <span>T</span>
  <span>he following night, after Maglor and Finrod had both gone to bed, Fingon was left with Elrond. Neither of them was tired, so they stayed in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p class="western">“I think Maglor will be fine here, living I mean.”</p><p class="western">Elrond nodded. “It is obvious his friendship with Finrod must have been a deep one, for them to fall back into it so easily.”</p><p class="western">“<span>Yes, it was. It took some damage after F</span><span>ё</span><span>anor held the sword against my father and Maglor followed.”</span></p><p class="western">“<span>I am sure they will be able to mend the rift”, Elrond mused. “</span></p><p class="western">“They will”, Fingon agreed. “But you seem sad about it.”</p><p class="western">“It feels like loosing my father again.”</p><p class="western">“I am sorry. Know you are always welcome here.”</p><p class="western">
  <span>Elrond shook his head. “Thank you. I just can’t help it…” The peredhel seemed to make a decision. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>For I carry some wounds with me still”, </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> said. “There are many words I have never said to my fathers. With Maglor, I was able to </span>
  <span>finally re-</span>
  <span>connect, Eärendil and Maedhros are lost to me. </span>
  <span>It breaks my heart to see him go again.</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Fingon had lived through something similar, when his father had rode out against Melkor. Still, for him, it had only been one parent. Elrond called three elves his fathers. A question remained. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Why </span>
  <span>is </span>
  <span>Eärendil </span>
  <span>among those you consider lost</span>
  <span>? He is here in Valinor.” </span>
  <span>In fact, Fingon had met the carrier of the silmaril once at the court of Tirion. The dark haired ellon had been visiting with Elwing one day. Apparently they were highly honoured guests, even if Elwing </span>
  <span>had been</span>
  <span> obviously very uncomfortable. </span>
  <span>She had looked at Fingon as if he </span>
  <span>resembled</span>
  <span> a roach.</span>
</p><p class="western">“We have seen each other briefly”, Elrond conceded. “But nothing came of it.”</p><p class="western">“Did you have expectations?”</p><p class="western">“<span>I had hoped we could talk about the past and try to grow closer as a family, because to me, my parents by blood are strangers. They were not of the same mind. </span><span>He and Elwing wanted to hug me tight, but I did not wish this. I mean, I barely know them. </span><span>For humans, their youngest years are often a hazy memory and for me, it is the same. </span><span>I know nothing of them</span><span>.”</span></p><p class="western">“I understand”, Fingon said. At least he understood the concept. He would not have liked strangers trying to hug him any more than Elrond had. “You memories about Maedhros and Maglor are clearer?”</p><p class="western">“Yes.” Elrond nodded. “Me and Elros, we were with them for longer than we had been with Elwing. And she abandoned us for a silmaril, which to this day, I cannot truly forgive.”</p><p class="western">“What is your opinion on the stones then?”</p><p class="western">“It would have been better had Elwing done what Eönwё did after. Giving the heirs of Fёanor the stones to decide. I think she never understood the Oath for the binding it was.”</p><p class="western">“True”, Fingon agreed. “Sometimes I envy the elves who never saw Valinor. To this day, if someone swears in curse, I always feel uneasy. In my youth, such wordings could be condemning.”</p><p class="western">“When young, I told my sons never ever to take Eru’s name into their mouths when cursing. I think they thought me to be strange.” Elrond laughed unhappily.</p><p class="western">“Have you told them?”</p><p class="western">“Much later. My relationship with the kinslayers of old was not something one mentioned in polite conversation.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Will you try contacting Eärendil again?”, Fingon asked three days later, a continuation of their earlier conversation. In the meantime, they both had had enough time to think about everything said.</p><p class="western">In bad diplomacy, Elrond replied with a question in return. “Will you search for Maedhros soon?” Fingon recognized the bold change of topic and set out to answer the question.</p><p class="western">“Soon”, he said.</p><p class="western">Elrond smiled and nodded. “Sometimes we need those we love around us to heal.”</p><p class="western">“And yet I fear I am selfish. How can I assume Maedhros is still feeling the same for me as I do for him.”</p><p class="western">“It is alright to be a bit selfish. I doubt his heart has changed and you need an answer before you worry yourself to dust.”</p><p class="western">Fingon sighed. As always, Elrond’s advise was wise and sound. He should heed it. “In a few weeks”, he agreed. “As soon as I feel comfortable leaving Maglor and Finrod to their own.”</p><p class="western">“Come by at mine”, Elrond requested. “I would like to accompany you to the halls, Ereinion will come too.”</p><p class="western">It was something he had hoped for. Námo owed him still a favour for taking in Finrod, but begging for entrance to the halls was something big. He would need every support he could gather. Bartering with the Vala of Death would not be easy, especially for the fёa of one kinslayer.</p><p class="western">“You haven’t answered me”, Fingon reminded his guest gently.</p><p class="western">“About Eärendil? I do not know yet. I would like to get to know him better, but I fear there are too many difference between us, like a cliff that can not be crossed.”</p><p class="western">“Maybe you could try again, but write him first, declaring your boundaries”, Fingon advised.</p><p class="western">Elrond liked the idea and declared it’s brillance.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Elrond left a week later, riding back to Tol Eresseä alone. Maglor protested, calling the long ride dangerous for one single being, but his son refused. He could defend himself if needed. Again, Fingon remembered this peredhel in front of him had seen the biggest battles throughout the second and third Ages and should be fine. He did not get an answer out of <span>his guest</span>, if he wanted to try contacting his parents by blood again. Fingon hoped he would do so.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The first weeks were not easy for Maglor. He awoke often during the night screaming. This resulted in Finrod and Fingon changing up the living situation for those first days. One night, Fingon would sleep in the second bed at the new house, the other night it would be Finrod. By this, both of them got enough sleep and could look out for Maglor with all the care needed.</p><p class="western">After those weeks, Maglor finally slept better and Finrod took over the second bedroom in the new cabin permanently. Fingon was glad, the nights with interrupted sleep had not done him good. The box with the golden ribbon was still standing ominously next to his bed. He opened it often, looking at the strip.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“You and Maglor are getting on very well I see”, Fingon mused one evening after the minstrel had already fallen asleep. They were enjoying some time in the kitchen, near the fire. The nights outside were getting cold, the warmth of the sea not helping against the icy winds trying to creep into every corner.</p><p class="western">Finrod nodded. “I am glad to have him back.”</p><p class="western">“And I am happy you are happy. Your voices sound magnificent together.”</p><p class="western">“You heard?”, Finrod asked exasperated.</p><p class="western">“Yes. Last night when I came back.”</p><p class="western">“You were out long, were you?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. What has changed?”</p><p class="western">Finrod looked at the flames. “He inspires me. I had thought I would never sing again, but Maglor – His music helps me.”</p><p class="western">Their voices mingling had truly been magnificent and Fingon had listened for a while. He had been surprised to hear them both singing in the tongue of men, the tone so sad. Somehow, he had understood. The songs of old, sung in Quenya, were of happier times and those in Sindarin would remind Maglor of the grief he and his family had brought. The old form of Westron seemed like a good enough compromise.</p><p class="western">“I was glad to hear your voice in song again”, Fingon said. “I had worried you would never…”</p><p class="western">“I had thought I could not. Maglor insisted on me trying.”</p><p class="western">“Will you sing again with him?”</p><p class="western">Finrod nodded. “It felt good. To have his understanding, no offence…”</p><p class="western">“Non taken.” Fingon had no such deep connection to music. He knew how to handle a harp well, but it had never been the craft he had been most famed for, no matter what Maedhros said. (Maedhros had proclaimed Fingon’s song had saved him, which was true but not for any magic)</p><p class="western">“I might join him again, but I doubt I will perform for anyone.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. He had not expected his cousin to do so for a long time. Finrod was a great musician, his best he was when singing without being watched. One thing Fingon needed to know. “If you want to have a session with Maglor again, do you want me to leave for a while?”</p><p class="western">“Why?”, Finrod asked confused. “This is your home, I won’t eject you.”</p><p class="western">“I meant, if you needed more privacy to feel comfortable for your songcraft. I do not disturb you?”</p><p class="western">“You don’t. I do not mind you overhearing, dear cousin.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">One day, Maglor went wandering for a few hours, only leaving a written message for his cousins behind. Finrod was livid, fearing to loose the minstrel again. He was the one who discovered the message, so he woke Fingon up in his panic.</p><p class="western">“What is it?”</p><p class="western">“Maglor has gone!”</p><p class="western">Fingon sat up instantly, groaning as his back protested a bit. He had had a bad night. “What do you mean <em>gone</em>?”</p><p class="western">“He left a note, saying he was taking a walk along the shore again!”</p><p class="western">“You mean, you fear he has gone forever?”</p><p class="western">“This is my fear”, Finrod acknowledged.</p><p class="western">Fingon climbed out of bed and grabbed his tunic. “Do you want to follow him?”</p><p class="western">“I don’t know. I mean, he always talked about loving the sea and it’s unpredictable ways. The solitude is something he loved after he got rid of the stone, but Maglor, he also said it was good to be among family again.”</p><p class="western">“If you are not sure, we should not follow him. Loving solitude as you said, he maybe needs a few hours alone after those weeks with us in close proximity. We should wait for him.”</p><p class="western">“Alright”, Finrod agreed,</p><p class="western">The hours waiting were pure torture for both of them. Fingon kept second guessing his decision and was turning his head constantly towards the ocean, hoping to see the shadow of his missing cousin there. Finrod was not better. At first, the blonde tried to do some work in their forge, but he also kept looking out of the small window.</p><p class="western">When in the sunset Maglor finally did come back, it was a great relief for both of them. They watched as the figure came up the well trodden path from the dunes, the light in their back. Neither Fingon nor Finrod ran out to meet their third, but they watched from the kitchen window and were sure they had been seen.</p><p class="western">Finrod sighed. “Finally. I was beginning to truly worry.”</p><p class="western">“You were worried the whole day. Thrice I expected you to mount a horse and ride out after him.”</p><p class="western">“Thrice I almost did it”, Finrod confessed. “I stopped, because I trusted Maglor to come back when it was the right time for him.”</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled. “And he did not disappoint us.”</p><p class="western">The door opened and Maglor stepped in. “I heard you talking.”</p><p class="western">“Then you know we were worried. Are you feeling better now?”, Finrod asked with concern lacing his voice.</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “Thank you for not running after me.”</p><p class="western">“Did you find what you were looking for?”</p><p class="western">“Yes”, the minstrel whispered. “No I am hungry though. Is there by any chance something left for me?”</p><p class="western">“Of course”, Fingon said and opened a jar in which he had put some of the soup they had had at the height of the sun. “Cold it tastes probably horrible, let me put it on the fire again for you.”</p><p class="western">It was a bit awkward, but Fingon managed to get the food warm in a very short time, during neither of them spoke. Finrod was sitting still, watching Maglor who sat down opposite of him. The silence was a bit unsettling, Fingon liked it better when their voices mingled in song. He did not say so, in part because of the discussion he had had with his cousin some weeks ago.</p><p class="western">“Here you go”, Fingon said as he gave a bowl of the heated soup to Maglor. The minstrel took the wooden thing with grace and thanked him. He proceeded to slurp the warm meal down.</p><p class="western">Finally, Finrod broke the silence which was only disturbed by the crackling of the fire and the breaths of the ellyn. “Can you, when you do this again, not leave a message, but tell me personally?”ä</p><p class="western">“Are you my keeper?”</p><p class="western">“Eru, no!”, Finrod exclaimed. Much softer, he added. “I care about you a great deal and would like to not find you gone suddenly.”</p><p class="western">Maglor held the gaze for a moment, before he dropped his eyes in defeat. “Alright”, he whispered.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maglor’s walks became rose in quantity, but he did not stay away as long as he had for the first time. He was usually gone for only a few hours, never without telling Finrod beforehand. The minstrel had taken the wish of his cousin to heart and it showed. Sometime later, Finrod even followed Maglor once or twice.</p><p class="western">During those hours, the loneliness crawled back into Fingon’s mind and he thought of Maedhros more often in these days.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Nightly Talks - Fathers: Part II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some conversations are had under the stars and a path is laid ahead.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“You did not enter the smithy once”, Fingon remarked one evening as he was sitting with Maglor near the shore. The minstrel was stretching his hands and massaging the scar tissue. He had much more movement than the day he had arrived in Valinor. The salve must have helped him a great deal as it had soothed Maedhros aches once.</p><p class="western">“Finrod invited me, but I don’t like being in a forge for prolonged moments.”</p><p class="western">“Oh. Why?” Fingon had always thought Maglor to be at least a passable smith. No he could not remember why he thought so in the first place. He certainly had never witnessed this cousin of his working in a forge.</p><p class="western">Maglor sighed sadly. “It reminds me of father.”</p><p class="western">“Not a good memory?”</p><p class="western">“My feelings are twofold.” Maglor swallowed and turned his <span>eyes</span> west, to where the sun was slowly fading out. A look of melancholy crossed his face, but it was gone in a second. “I hate him for what he has done. What he shaped me and my brothers into with his Oath. But. I love him still. I remember his humour, his passion for the craft and his love for mother.”</p><p class="western">“I was <span>not</span> allowed to see much his happier side”, Fingon mused. “He disliked me for my father and was often dismayed about my friendship with Maedhros.” Fёanor had shown his contempt for Fingon on more than one occasion. These days, he wondered what the spirit of fire would say about the friendship, which had saved Maedhros once. It was highly likely he would not have changed.</p><p class="western">“He held onto his grudges”, Maglor agreed as if he had read Fingon’s thoughts. “But the forge is a bitter memory for me for different reasons. Did you know he tried to shape everyone of us into the next master smith?”</p><p class="western">“Maedhros told me Fёanor had been disappointed about his skill within the craft. I never found a fault with the pieces he had made for me.” Maitimo of old gifted Fingon once a silver pearl for his hair, stamped with beautiful ornaments. In Fingon’s eyes, his beloved had been a good silversmith during the Years of the Trees, even though his heart had been in diplomacy.</p><p class="western">“Father was a master smith, but no teacher. He gave up on making a smith out of me very early and agreed with mother my talents lay elsewhere. Maedhros got to study with Finwё diplomacy, as heir of the line, and I got educated in music. Curufin was the only one father was satisfied with in the smithy.”</p><p class="western">“Oh. Was there ever discontent in your family because of it?”</p><p class="western">Maglor laughed, his tone bitter. “When was there not?” A second later, he calmed down. “I’m unfair. We were a happy bunch of elves for the longest time. What I meant was, there was some tension later on, mostly because Caranthir felt a bit left out, as father started to concentrate on Curufin’s education.”</p><p class="western">“It was the same in our house, when Fingolfin started to focus on Aredhel, Turgon reacted a bit envious. How was it for you, when Celegorm was born?”</p><p class="western">“I was already on my way to become a musician, so I did not feel much in terms of envy. I just was a bit amused, when Tyelko was unable to satisfy father’s standards as an apprentice.”</p><p class="western">“He became the best hunter I ever knew”, Fingon praised. “I think he had found his craft.”</p><p class="western">“Indeed. And it was very helpful during the early years in Beleriand. He and his hunters kept us fed.”</p><p class="western">“Aredhel did the same for us, on the ice. To this day, I am a bit surprised how well she managed to adapt so effortlessly. A forest and a desert of ice are quite the different settings.”</p><p class="western">“They are”, Maglor agreed. “It is a bit sad father never got to see Celegorm’s true worth during life.”</p><p class="western">“Did he not?”</p><p class="western">“He fell too early.”</p><p class="western">Fingon laid his head to the side. “Shortly after the burning, right?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. In all honest, I think burning the ships was his downfall in many ways. You saw the light in the shores of Valinor, it is safe to assume the enemy saw it too. We basically revealed ourselves and got what we asked for.”</p><p class="western">The memory of finding out about Maedhros’ capture came to Fingon’s mind unbidden. It had nearly made him weep then. Now the situation was better, which let him hope.</p><p class="western">“Yes, the fire was to be seen across the sea. Even though I hated you all for the moment, you did not deserve all that came after.” It was a point Fingon had thought about for long. He hated himself for the hatred he had felt, even for a moment, while his beloved was being tortured.</p><p class="western">Maglor shook his head. “We deserved worse and would have gotten it, if not for Eru’s mercy. Had they not allowed it, my brothers would have been doomed for the Void. I am glad they were allowed to stay in the Halls.”</p><p class="western">“Me too”, Fingon whispered. It had been his greatest fear once, to learn one day about Maedhros death and his fёa going where he could not follow. Indeed, Eru was merciful.</p><p class="western">The minstrel nodded. “How was it for you, facing your father again after your rebirth?”, he asked carefully, looking up to the stars which were appearing now that the sun was only a faint memory on the blue sky.</p><p class="western">For a moment, Fingon thought about how he could answer. He had felt so many things when he met Fingolfin again. He let his gaze wander upwards too, to where Varda’s lights were coming out to shine. “I was glad to see him whole and hale again. I had a bit of fury in me still, for his suicidal ride against Morgoth. It was a folly and I stand by my assessment. We talked through it and then embraced. It felt a bit like coming to the home of my youth again.”</p><p class="western">“Ah, yes”, Maglor agreed. “<span>His charge was foolish and I understand why you still had some resentment towards him. I am glad you were able to talk it out</span>.”</p><p class="western">“Of course I knew why he had done it, but there was anger in me for the abandonment and the burdens he left behind. Being king was not easy and I did not like it.”</p><p class="western">“Me neither”, Maglor whispered. “Those years, when Maedhros was-”, his voice broke remembering it. “I had no talent for the kingship, I had never been taught diplomacy the way my elder brother was.”</p><p class="western">Fingon laughed a little. “Look at us, the unwilling kings of old, now hiding far away from their former people.”</p><p class="western">“I wish I had been able to talk with father, only once, after the First Age”, Maglor whispered. “There are some things I want to ask him but never had the chance to do so.”</p><p class="western">And Fingon thought about Elrond, who told him it could be beneficial for the healing to speak with those who one had questions for.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">After the conversation, Maglor went into the direction Finrod had vanished in. Fingon remained behind, cuddling deeper into his blanket. The stars were shining brightly and the evening star, Eärendil with the Silmaril, passed overhead. Fingon waved the ship in the sky for a moment until he felt foolish. The world was so big, the mariner would not see him anyway.</p><p class="western">He went back to the cabin when the wind finally had seeped through his clothing and began stealing his warmth. With no clouds in the sky, the night would become a cold one and he would not stay until the nightmares of the ice would come to haunt him as his flesh froze.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“I have told my parents about my relationship with Maedhros.” It was night again, and they were sitting in the sand underneath the stars again.</p><p class="western">“I guess they reacted poorly?”, Maglor asked,</p><p class="western">“My mother did. My father somehow knew.”</p><p class="western">Maglor laughed a little. “You two were never exactly subtle.”</p><p class="western">“I guess so. Your mother was there too. She was a bit my champion.”</p><p class="western">“Mother… She was always a strong and open-minded person”, Maglor mused. “To stand against her husband was not something many elleth did these days. I’m glad this changed.”</p><p class="western">“Me too. By the way, has Finrod told you about Amariё?”</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “She married a Vanyar elleth. To me, he almost seemed relieved.”</p><p class="western">“I think he was. He may love her still, platonically, but the time has shattered everything else.”</p><p class="western">“He changed during the years in Beleriand”, Maglor mused. “To be honest, we all did. Maybe that’s why we do not fit in the old system anymore. It is good so many things are changing.”</p><p class="western">“Sometimes the change leaves me a bit hanging”, Fingon confessed. “I made contact with the newer realms during my time as Finarfin’s diplomat, but they work so differently from what I know, it is interesting to see.”</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “Maybe one day, I will see these realms too, if I am allowed to go there.”</p><p class="western">“I wish you the joy of it.” Fingon meant it. The place the followers of Galadriel had created was a truly magnificent place, even before the Lady had landed on the shores. Fingon had been at the bay by then, so he knew not how the realm had developed since then. He imagined it must have gotten even more magnificent. To one of the more recent settlements, the one built by the elves from a forest called the Greenwood, Fingon had not seen, only heard of their grand underground structure. Maybe one day he could accompany Maglor with Maedhros on an exploration tour. That was far off still, if it would happen at all.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The friendship between Maglor and Finrod grew. There was hardly a night during which their song could not be heard. The soft tunes drifted in through the only window into Fingon’s room. They sung in sad voices in the tongue of their youth. The lonely ellon in the bed understood their words and cuddled himself deeper into his pillows. He missed his own best friend and partner and the songs stirred up his longing again.</p><p class="western">He would never tell the other two about this. It would stop them from singing, which was something Fingon never would risk. Day by day, their voices were getting stronger and their duets more harmonic. They fit together well and maybe there was growing more between them. Fingon would not ask them about it, for fear of destroying something with his unwanted for nosiness. He just watched as they started to spend more time together, caring for the few plants which were growing during the cold months and furnishing the second cabin further. Sometime Fingon felt a bit left out,</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Not all conversation could avoided. Fingon met Finrod at night not much later. The first one had not been able to sleep because of his thoughts spiralling around the trip he would soon make. His heart and fёa were starting to pull him towards the Halls of Mandos. The longing he felt was great. It was winter still and he could not leave Maglor and his cousin alone for the cold season. Doing this would be asking fate to do it’s worst.</p><p class="western">“You are pensive”, Finrod remarked.</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled a bit pained. “As I am ever.”</p><p class="western">“What is upon your mind, cousin?”</p><p class="western">“The usual. Care to distract me a bit?”</p><p class="western">“Fine”, Finrod sighed. “But I would prefer I you would get your arse to the Halls finally.”</p><p class="western">“It is not yet time.”</p><p class="western">“Maybe you are right.”</p><p class="western">“Do you know when it will be the time for you to meet your father?”</p><p class="western">“Not yet”, Finrod replied cheekily. “And probably not for a long time.”</p><p class="western">“Do you truly think it best to stay here at the bay? Don’t you miss your siblings?”</p><p class="western">“I do miss them. Just as you do Turgon.”</p><p class="western">That was a low blow. Fingon missed both his brothers, but with Turgon he still was unable to see eye to eye. There was resentment on both sides and it was better for them to be apart. To this day, Fingon still fought with himself over his feelings about Turgon’s running away in Beleriand. Never Fingon had been able to see the hiding in Gondolin as something else. Yes, it may have saved many elves and had it’s place in history, but Turgon had refused to take part in the most important union of them all.</p><p class="western">“You have never been able to set aside your differences then?”, Fingon asked.</p><p class="western">Finrod sighed. “We have never spoken, but I know his feelings to remain unchanged, about Beleriand and after. I saw it in the tapestries after all.”</p><p class="western">“Much of it could be your interpretation.”</p><p class="western">“It may or may not be. Still, I wish to keep my distance from the court for a while. You understand, do you? You worked there for years after your rebirth after all.”</p><p class="western">“I did”, Fingon agreed. “And it was a bit exhausting, to be fair. You are right, many of those who have never seen the other shores have very strong about us who took the journey.”</p><p class="western">“See?”</p><p class="western">“And still I have been made aware by someone dear to me about how important it is to try and breach those differences.”</p><p class="western">Finrod nodded. Fingon almost heard his critical thinking <em>and you have not been able to</em>.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The conversation with Finrod left Fingon emotionally drained. He went back to his room alone, with a heavy heart. The talk had gone worse than he had hoped for. Elrond’s words had given him hope for all of them, but Finrod’s reluctance had been shattering part of it. It would still take a long while for his cousin to make up his mind. No good would come from pressuring his friend though, so he relented. He had no arguments left for his own position and all that was left to do was to wait.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“When the snow thaws, I will come with you”, Maglor proclaimed one evening. Outside, the days were getting longer again, so the time had almost come for Fingon to take his ride to the Halls of Mandos.</p><p class="western">“You will come with me?” This he had not expected. Maglor had chosen the new solitude, him going back so soon was surprising. Fingon would take everyone who wanted to back him.</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “I feel better than when I came here. I think I am ready to pass through Sirion again. Also, I miss Elrond and you’ve talk before about him supporting your quest.”</p><p class="western">Indeed, a meeting with the peredhel was planned. During the winter months, he had not been able to visit again, the snow had hidden the path to the cabin. Only Aredhel had come by, guided by her talent of the hunt and tracing.</p><p class="western">“I welcome your companionship”, Fingon replied. “It would mean leaving Finrod behind, he doesn’t want to leave the bay for now.”</p><p class="western">“I know”, Maglor said. “I tried to convince him to come, but he has his opinion. I can’t blame him though.”</p><p class="western">It was true. Finrod had kept his stance on the matter of going for Tirion and his family.</p><p class="western">“I wish he would come with me one day”, Fingon said. He did not think the hesitance of his blonde cousin was in any way progress. He already thought of taking matter into his own hands, but he would not betray his friend like this.</p><p class="western">Maglor agreed. “But pushing him too much would also not be fair. Let it be his own decision.”</p><p class="western">“I will. Do you think you are strong enough for the journey?”</p><p class="western">“I wandered for centuries and took some naps recently, I should be fine”, Maglor replied with biting sarcasm.</p><p class="western">“Sorry for doubting you.”</p><p class="western">The minstrel deflated a bit. “I apologize. You are too kind, Fingon.”</p><p class="western">“It’s already forgotten. I am happy you will ride with me, the way is long and following it alone can be desolate sometimes.”</p><p class="western">“You will see my brother at the end.”</p><p class="western">“I hope you are right.”</p><p class="western">“Never was the gift of the sight mine, but this time? I am relatively sure you will find him.”</p><p class="western">Fingon sighed. “Some nights, when I lie awake, I fear he will reject me.”</p><p class="western">“He will not. Ever has he remembered you and loved you from afar.”</p><p class="western">His eyes watered, but he kept the tears at bay. Why did everything these day go directly to his heart? Maybe the longing had grown over time.</p><p class="western">A hand touched his shoulder. It was Maglor, who tried to offer some comfort. Fingon laid his hand over the minstrel’s, returning the gesture.</p><p class="western">“Thank you”, he said weakly. The he added. “Can I ask you for a favour, Maglor?”</p><p class="western">“Of course, though I do not know if it is in my power to grant it.”</p><p class="western">Fingon breathed in deeply. “Before we reach the Halls, will you help me braid in some more ribbons. I mean, I could do it on my own, but it takes a long time and…”</p><p class="western">“I will help you”, Maglor promised. “Even though I am not fast with my hands these days.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In the next chapter, Fingon will go on the journey to the Halls of Mandos, finally!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Gathering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fingon gathers his supporters and rides to the Halls of Mandos. On the way, some conversations take place.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My stupid brain almost forgot another chapter is due, but thankfully I got an alarm set on my phone</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The day the snow had finally thawed, Fingon made the decision to go and he rode out with Maglor that rainy morning. Their destination was Tol Eresseä to begin with. It would take them days to reach the island and would also probably involve some bartering with the Teleri at the ferry again, but they needed to meet with Elrond. As most revered healer of Valinor, he was on of the essential members of their party. Also, the lord was stubborn and would most likely follow them anyway. As it was, Fingon needed every support he could gather. Also, Gilgalad and Celebrían resided with him and Fingon counted them as possible allies. Gilgalad had also a friend who was not re-embodied yet, who he wished to plead for, as Elrond had disclosed one evening.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Elrond”, Fingon greeted a stupid feeling of honour came to his heart. “I have come to ask for your help in my quest.” Even as he spoke, he felt silly.</p><p class="western">“Far too formal, you old elf”, commented a younger ellon from the sidelines. “Ada, what he says is: Can you please come face Námo for getting someone into the halls without dying?” Ah, this had to be one of the sons of Elrond. When had they come to Valinor?</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled. “Yes, I want to finally go for Maedhros. Now that the snow is gone, the way should be open to us. Also, Maglor came with me.”</p><p class="western">Elrond opened his eyes wide as Maglor appeared out of the trees near them. “I will come.”</p><p class="western">“As will we”, said Celebrían and Gilgalad in unison. “This world still needs change and we will help you bring it.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The party consisting out of seven rode to Alqualondё, where Elrond managed to get a letter from King Olwё, a green light for the release of the Fёanorions. No harm shall come to them by the hands of the Teleri. With this done, the way led them to Tirion, where they gathered Nerdanel and Fingolfin. Anairё still refused to stand up for the love of her eldest son’s life. Nerdanel was very happy at seeing Maglor among their ranks. She asked if she should call the Ambarussa, but the minstrel refused. He was still not comfortable with many people and seeing his youngest siblings again, he would not today. Thankfully his mother had learned and respected the wishes. In turn, Maglor promised to see if he could manage a reunion with his living siblings soon.</p><p class="western">As a party of nine they left Tirion and turned their way west towards the Halls of Mandos where Námo resided. Of course, Fingon could have tried to get the Vala’s attention by prayer, but it was less certain if they would have answered. Visiting and knocking on the door was the better option. Celebrían coming with them had surprised Fingon. The silver lady had cited her dislike for riding once before and the former king would not have taken another refusal ill. Fingolfin remained at the tail of the company and did not take part in most conversations. He disliked the Halls and going there, but he showed support for Fingon by coming along. After the fallout with his mother, the dark haired son had expected his father to stay behind, so he did not invade his thoughts futher.</p><p class="western">“When have your sons come to these lands?”, Fingon asked her as they had a moment of peace on the outskirts of Tirion.</p><p class="western">Celebrían smiled. “Not long ago. I am glad they came.” Her hands wandered to a beautiful necklace. “I had already lost my daughter, loosing them…” She shook her head. “I knew what could happen when I bore them, but it could have destroyed me.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded in sympathy. “Thank you for coming with us.”</p><p class="western">“My husband misses his red-haired father. I would be the last one to stop him.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Do you think Námo will listen?”, Nerdanel asked a bit later. “When I came to their door, they heard my words but did not act upon them.”</p><p class="western">“I have hope”, Fingon told her. “I have to believe we will succed. It is a small wish after all.”</p><p class="western">“And one Námo has probably never heard before and will refuse.”</p><p class="western">Fingon shook his head. “You think they want to keep the dead forever. To me they said, they can’t re-embody a fёa not ready. A new body will not be accepted.”</p><p class="western">“I always thought they were keeping my family out of spite.”</p><p class="western">Elrond rode up, joining their conversation. “You give the Valar much credit, Lady Nerdanel. Probably more than they deserve.”</p><p class="western">“And you are very critical, Lord Elrond”, she answered. “Be careful you do not get doomed too.”</p><p class="western">“Are you sure the doom wasn’t just a prophecy badly worded?”</p><p class="western">“To this day, I think nobody can be truly sure of the meaning, it will forever be the secret of Námo”, Elrond mused.</p><p class="western">Nerdanel did not appear truly amused, but she nodded.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Their procession was a strange one, as they left the outskirts of Tirion. Many elves looked at them curious from the sidelines. Some faces Fingon recognized, but most were strangers. Probably the generations that came after the Nirnaeth. Seeing two kings and several other high born elves ride by wasn’t an every-day occurrence, even if theses shores were in no shortage of kings.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It happened that Fingon and Gilgalad rode up ahead of their procession, a few horse-lengths in front of everyone else.</p><p class="western">“Who is the friend you want to plead for?”, Fingon asked. So far he had not had the chance to ask his son for his own motivations to come along.</p><p class="western">Gilgalad looked aside, avoiding eye contact for a moment. Then he seemed to make a decision and turned his gaze directly to Fingon. “You are not the only one, who was befriended one of Fёanor’s line.”</p><p class="western">“Celebrimbor?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. We were both lords in the Second Age and had much to discuss in terms of trade. Hence we met, sometimes in Lindon, sometimes in Eregion. My council was not always happy about my travels, but it helped a lot. At least for the good times. When Sauron influenced him, our friendship suffered.”</p><p class="western">“Sauron got into everything, didn’t he?”</p><p class="western">“Unfortunately. He killed me in the end.” Gilgalad sighed. “Of course, Celebrimbor was long dead by then. Sometimes I wish I can unsee his tortured and lifeless body carried in front of the enemy’s horde.”</p><p class="western">“I’m sorry”, Fingon said with empathy.</p><p class="western">Gilgalad nodded in thanks. “It is sad we can relate so well on this – I imagine finding Maedhros on Thangorodrim felt similar.”</p><p class="western">Fingon dared not to compare the two situations. He had been able to save his friend and love. Gilgalad had been helpless and had died shortly after.</p><p class="western">“When did you meet Celebrimbor for the first time?”</p><p class="western">“Oh, during one of the feasts after I first became High King. I did not like him immediately, I had respect and dislike agains Fёanor’s kin, I knew what had happened at Doriath all too well, even though he never had a part in those deeds.”</p><p class="western">“Well, your caution saved you later, so I would call it a fine part of your character. When did your relationship change?”</p><p class="western">“Oh, during a diplomatic meeting concerning the trade between his city and mine. He was clever and honest during this, never once appearing like I had imagined. We spent some time afterwards, just talking.”</p><p class="western">“You care a great deal about him.”</p><p class="western">“As I said, he was a good friend and his fate was cruel. Me and Elrond owe him, for the rings, with which it had been possible to keep strongholds against the enemy until the end”, Gilgalad explained, melancholy lacing his voice. “You should have seen Imladris, it was beautiful.”</p><p class="western">“I can imagine. Do you think Námo will release Celebrimbor?”</p><p class="western">Gilgalad shook his head. “I doubt it. What happened to my friend, I was the worst fate imaginable. It will take him a long time to heal, very long, if he ever does. I just want to plead Námo to relay a message to him. Of hope and of the people who are waiting for him. I do not have a good standing with the Lord of the Dead as you seem to have.”</p><p class="western">“Oh, I do not understand Námo’s reasoning one bit”, Fingon said. “He just dropped Finrod on me one day and told me it was not him who decided who was reborn. Apparently it is a matter of the elf in question.”</p><p class="western">Gilgalad thought about this for a moment until he nodded. “But then your pleading would be in vein.”</p><p class="western">“My strategy depends on being granted entrance to the Halls”, Fingon disclosed. “Elrond once told me, sometimes we need those we love around us to heal. I am not fully healed, but the one who left the biggest wound I can’t meet. I think Maedhros feels similar.”</p><p class="western">“I wish you all the luck of Arda.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They made a break shortly before closing in on the Halls of Mandos. There, Maglor honoured his promise and re-braided Fingon’s hair with golden ribbons. The one passed down through the ages was not among those, but it rested together with the box in a big pocket of Fingon’s cloak. It was cold enough to warrant such a piece of clothing. It took Maglor a while to fulfil the task. It was obvious his hands were not used to fine tasks again. He was still practising after thousands of years of disuse. Thankfully, the crowd did not watch them. Elrond distracted Gilgalad and Nerdanel sufficiently and they made some food. It was very welcome, even though Fingon did not feel hungry. He was a bit anxious about what was to come. There were so many way the meeting with the Vala Námo could go. The worst thoughts were in his head. In the end, he would not run, he would stand his ground for Maedhros. He needed to see his beloved again and he felt the time had come. Again, Fingolfin stayed at the edge of their group, but he took the food gladl when he got offered some.</p><p class="western">“I’m done”, Maglor declared after a while. The tugging on Fingon’s scalp stopped and he felt the minstrel’s hands sink down. He turned slowly around, looking at his cousin.</p><p class="western">“Thank you.”</p><p class="western">“I tried to create the style you wore at Himring once.”</p><p class="western">Fingon let his own hands touch the braids. Indeed, the pattern resembled one he had worn to the ever-cold castle once or twice.</p><p class="western">“You did great”, Fingon praised his friend.</p><p class="western">“Thank you. You look ready to meet my brother.”</p><p class="western">Fingon blushed a bit. “Oh. I hope I will be granted my wish. Can I hug you? For courage.”</p><p class="western">The minstrel hesitated for a moment until he nodded. He opened his arms and Fingon let himself fall forward a bit. The strong hands of Maglor secured him in the warmth of the embrace. It did not take long until they separated again, but the contact had done much to calm Fingon’s thoughts down. He allowed himself a faint smile and Maglor returned it.</p><p class="western">“Let’s see what the others are doing.”</p><p class="western">The other elves had finished their cooking and served some soup. Nerdanel was sitting aside, her carving knife in had, working furiously on a branch she had found on the ground. Elrond had been the one in charge of the meal, or so it seemed. He served Gilgalad and Maglor first, before the passed a bowl to Fingon.</p><p class="western">Soon they came into the fog which was marking the point of closing in to the halls. Fingon hid further in his cloak, because the cold had started to creep into his bones.</p><p class="western">“We’re almost there”, Nerdanel said.</p><p class="western">“How do you know?”, Elrond asked her.</p><p class="western">She turned to towards the lord and threw him a sharp eye. “I have been here before. Many many times. By now, I have visited the border of the Halls more often than I have been to the court of Tirion, I was a High Princess once.”</p><p class="western">“I am sorry, My Lady”, Elrond replied. “I do not know much about your personal history.”</p><p class="western">“It’s fine”, Nerdanal said. “I just came here often, first after my husband died, then more and more as my children followed him.”</p><p class="western">“You went pleading for them often?”</p><p class="western">“Not so much pleading, sometimes just to be near?”, she explained. “There were many days I could not forgive them. Usually after one of their victims had come to my door.”</p><p class="western">“Did this happen often?”, Gilgalad asked from the side.</p><p class="western">Nerdanel’s smile was sad. “Yes. In the beginning at least. Almost every week someone came to me. The worst were those who blamed me for not tempering Fёanáro. As if anyone could have succeeded in that regard. I was even unable to save one child from his ambitions.”</p><p class="western">Elrond nodded. “And still you have not asked the Valar to break your marriage bond, I think that would be something I would have heard about.”</p><p class="western">Fire appeared in Nerdanel’s eyes. “No. I knew who he was when I married him. As much as I hate his deeds, today I know what had happened and can still say: I will not dissolve the bond. I stand by my decision I made in the early years and should he be reborn one day, I will be civil to him and see where we go from there.”</p><p class="western">“This is a long speech, My Lady”, Gilgalad stated. “Your words are well thought of.”</p><p class="western">“They are”, she agreed. “Look ahead.”</p><p class="western">In front of them, the fog finally cleared up a bit. In front of them a palace appeared, it’s walls high and in their hearts, an urge to flee manifested.ä</p><p class="western">“The Halls. We are here”, Nerdanel declared. She pointed to a small shrine near the wall, a hundred feet in front of them. “This is where prayers to Námo are offered, by those who make it through the fog.” Fingolfin, who stood next to her was shaken by a shudder at seeing the walls and Fingon felt quite the same.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next week, Fingon is going to enter the Halls of Mandos</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Leaving the body behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Over 3000 hits! Thank you so much!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The shrine was small, but it bore the marks of the two old fractions of elves. There were pearls of Alqualondё laid in the wood of the table. The wood itself was etched with traditional Noldorin motives though. Fingon was glad to see here their people were not separated, but united in grief. To his surprise, a shawl with a Fёanorian Star was among the offerings.</p><p class="western">“It is a place to go for everyone who misses their loved ones. Be they Teleri or Noldor”, Nerdanel declared. “We all know coming here won’t bring them back sooner, but it gives comfort to the living.”</p><p class="western">Gilgalad nodded in agreement. “I have been here once before. It was hard for me to pass through the fog, so I didn’t make the journey alone again.”</p><p class="western">“It is not easy for me either”, Nerdanel whispered. “And still I miss them all. What you are trying to do, Findekáno, is unheard of.”</p><p class="western">Elrond chuckled. “It is certainly a different idea than what my great-grandmother did.”</p><p class="western">“My song would never sway Námo”, Fingon said. His song had saved Maedhros once, on Thangorodrim, but he knew the quality of his voice better than to compete with the likes of Luthien or even Maglor. The only thing he had over them was his skill in diplomacy and a questionable connection to the Lord of the Dead. Fingon did not know why they had chosen to drop Finrod at his place, nor the reason for them revealing some secrets to him. The will of the Valar was not for elves to know. They were higher in might and different of mind, so no elf could hope to comprehend. Maybe the visit was in vain indeed, doomed to fail. Nobody else had tried before and no elf knew all the rules of Námo’s kingdom.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fingon went to the wall of the Halls of Mandos. He had his harp at his side and his family behind him. Directly after him, <span>Maglor and Elrond</span> <span>walked arm in arm.</span> Nerdanel marched behind them, Celebrían and Gilgalad at <span>her</span> side. They had come with a purpose and would not leave without it being fulfilled.</p><p class="western">Surprisingly, Námo <span>manifested themselves before their eyes as they came closer to the shrine, as if they had lain in wait for their visitors</span>. The Vala sat on the grass ground, their legs crossed. Their form was clad in a dark blue cloak, the head hidden underneath a large hood, as was their custom. Their features were always slightly different when one met them. Fingon saw the difference in shape, compared to their last meeting at the shore of the bay.</p><p class="western">Fingon bowed slightly and got to business. “Greetings, Lord Námo. I have come to ask for entry into your realm.”</p><p class="western">Námo just raised <span>his voice in a statement.</span> “You speak your desire as a demand. Bold words.”</p><p class="western">Elrond stepped forward, his usual patience forgotten. “You can take it however you want, oh Lord Námo. We are here for my missing father.”</p><p class="western">The Vala seemed unimpressed. “<span>Eärendil and Maglor have been returned to you, the last one only be the grace of Eru</span>. And yet you demand more.”</p><p class="western">Fingon stood up straighter. “I have come for Nelyafinwё Maitimo Russandol, also known as Maedhros Fёanorion. I will not leave without having spoken to him.”</p><p class="western">Námo actually laughed. “You truly speak bold words, Findekáno Nolofinwion. But you did not have to gather such a large party for your request, nor brought your harp.” The Vala waved their hand and a solid door appeared in the wall. “Go forth and find the one you are searching for.”</p><p class="western">Fingon looked at his companions, especially at Elrond. This seemed too easy. He had expected to have to barter with the Vala, arguing with the arguments he had laid out for himself. The peredhel just nodded. “Go. We will wait here for your return.”</p><p class="western">“It may take a long time. If I have not returned in a few hours, leave without me.” Elrond <span>accepted and promised to care for the other elves in their company</span>. Nobody in the party knew the state Maedhros was in and if he would be able to leave the Halls anytime soon, Fingon the least.</p><p class="western">“Please do not stay forever”, <span>Maglor </span>said. “We would miss you dearly.”</p><p class="western">Fingon closed his eyes. “I do not yet know which decisions I will have to make in there. Take good care of Maglor.” Then the former High King of the Noldor stepped forward, vanishing through the mist behind the door.</p><p class="western">Námo just smiled at the audience left behind, but it did not assure them. Then the Lord of the Dead vanished as if he had never been there. Even the grass he had sat on was unblemished. Nerdanel was the only one who did not appear surprised. Fingolfin’s expression was a sad one and he seemed to be torn. In the end, he wished Fingon much luck and told him how much he hoped for his return. For both of their return.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The Lord of the Dead led Fingon through the first chamber, which was made of hewn stone. It had the vague feeling of a lobby, a bit desolate. Námo did not stop there. They drifted forward, into a hallway, to another chamber. They pointed towards it and Fingon entered. The room resembled the lobby, but this one had one piece of furniture in it. <span>A table made of stone, with an elevation at one end. It took a moment for the living to realize what it resembled. A bed where the dead were placed for their loved ones to say goodbye</span>. A bier. This one was empty, but the view alone left Fingon with a stale taste in his mouth. Námo seemed to not realize or ignore the thoughts of their guest. They pointed towards it, a sign to lie down. Fingon hesitated. This stone looked very much like <span>one step before the</span> tomb, a place for a dead body until lowered into the ground. The image of his own body lying there came unbidden, there had been so many friends he had buried. Námo did not say a word, they simply waited for action. It was clear there was no other way of entrance into the domain of the fёa, or at least no other the Lord would allow.</p><p class="western">Valiant indeed. Fingon stepped closer and hopped up Edge, totally undignified. He turned the correct way and caught Námo’s eye. The Lord had changed again. <span>Their </span>robe was now of a golden colour, most of their lower face hidden underneath a mask of cloth. Only the eyes were piercing and clear, the iris a dark brown and gleaming in the fog of the Halls. Fingon laid down slowly, his head resting on the stone. The elevation stabilizing his neck. The surface of the bier was smooth and cold. Someone with skill must have done the piece, if it had not been created by the creative power of the Vala who was the Lord of this realm. For a realm removed from the physical it was. Almost immediately, <span>Fingon</span> began to shiver, because of chill or fright could not say. There were no sounds in the halls, except for his own breathing. It was strange in contrast to the depressing silence. Námo stepped closer, their face above the mask resembled more a skull now as they began to wield their powers. They had not told a single word of what was to happen. Fingon just assumed it was something that needed to be done so he could wander deeper into the realm of the unhoused spirits. The magic of the Vala started to seep into his flesh, draining away the last of the warmth the ellon had managed to hold on. His hröa was starting to feel unresponsive and a small part of Fingon’s mind began to panic. As he could not move anymore, he could not escape, nor should he truly want to. He had went into the situation with seeing eyes and determination. He had told Námo what he was here for and intended to fulfil his quest. There was no turning back. Also, the sane part of his thoughts remembered the Valar did not hurt the Eldar with intention.</p><p class="western">Some connection loosened suddenly and Fingon could move again. He was glad for it, until he realized it was only his spirit moving, not his hröa. The feeling of his fёa leaving his body was a strange one, as long as the two overlapped. The first time, loosing his body had hurt soo much and Fingon had been glad to be rid of the dying vessel. Now he was pulled out of his healthy hröa. It was not pleasant, but also not too painful at the same time. It felt a bit like loosing a sense, especially most of his sense of touch. The cold air of the Halls was only a whisper now on the surface of his fёa.</p><p class="western">A few moments of readjustment later, Fingon was greeted with the strange sensation of seeing his body from the outside. His face was pale and unmoving now, truly like dead. Somehow his hröa was breathing still.</p><p class="western">“Your fёa is removed from your body, but the unconscious connection remains so your body can live. Severing that connection would have sent you into the Halls for a long time again”, Námo said without feeling in the voice. “It will be sustained by my power. Now, this is the door. Go in and find the one you are searching for.” Námo pointed towards a gate which must have appeared out of nowhere.</p><p class="western">“Thank you for your assistance.” Fingon bowed once, slowly getting used to his now shadowy figure. “Any rules?”</p><p class="western">“I you want to regain your body, just think of it. But you must be sure about it. This favour I am only doing you once. I will not do this a second time. Be sure of your wishes.”</p><p class="western">“I will remember this”, Fingon whispered, thankful as he was. The gift of Námo was a great one, one which could change to much in his life. A gift it had taken the ellon a long time to gather the courage to ask for. Now he just needed to find the one he had come for. He went over to the gate and pushed it open. Behind lay another hallway filled with fog and the faint memory of other fёa dwelling there. Thus Fingon began his journey through the Halls.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Being a living soul in the Halls was a strange experience. Fingon almost felt a bit lost in there. He only had a vague feeling as to where he was going. Something was pulling him towards a certain direction. He hoped it was Maedhros, who would be at the end of this particular strife. The Halls looked like they had no roof to his eyes, no windows, but still there was light. The domain of Mandos did not follow the laws of physics, no shadows were around, just a general feeling of light and dark. This could also stem from the presence of the fёa around and their feelings. From time to time, another fёa passed by, ignoring Fingon on their way to wherever they went. Most of them were surrounded by an aura of hope, so the living wanderer was sure they would not even know of where to go to find the more desperate ones.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">After a long time, to Fingon’s feeling, of walking through the mist clouding the hallways, he finally reached the darker parts. The light was not scattering as well as in the halls he had already passed. At least this was how it was perceived by Fingon. Maybe it was just the bleeding in of the feelings of the other fёa around. The ones passing were schemes in the fog, not fully formed images as before. The feeling of closeness had grown stronger, so he was certain to be on the right path. He had no guess how long his way would be until he reached his beloved. At least he suspected this was where the feeling was pulling him. It assured him that there was a bond between him and Maedhros, one that even death had not been able to break. If it was truly Maedhros at the other end of the connection, their love could have a future, through death onwards. Still, the bond was broken in a way so Fingon could not feel what his beloved was experiencing. Hopefully they would be able to mend it in time.</p><p class="western">After a while of going further into the dark parts, it could have been minutes or hours, Fingon entered a smaller chamber. No light fell into it from the outside, but still he could see everything. The walls were black, instead of white-grey as the previous hallway had been. When he touched the wall near the entrance, his hand came back blackened. He wiped the soot on what could be considered his clothing. It dissolved into nothingness as if it had never been there. This particular property of the Halls was irritating, but understandable as everything but the walls was a manifestation of the mind. More Fingon could not think about this, because his fёa finally registered why he had entered the chamber in the first place. In the middle of the room a fire burned. It was red and golden, with flickers of copper woven in between. And then Fingon finally understood. It was no fire. It was a bright spirit cloaked in flames. <span>A f</span><span>ё</span><span>a hiding in the fire, wrapping themselves into the light and heat</span>. Fingon cried out, for the fёa was well known to his own.</p><p class="western">The tears were cold on his face.</p><p class="western">“Maedhros”, he whispered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next week, there will be more of Maedhros! Also, the draft of this story is already at 52k words and growing longer each day, so there is still much ahead!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Maedhros and the Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The flames grew, licking at the fёa of Maedhros in the middle of them. Panic surged in Fingon, for he feared the fire was a dangerous one, hurting his love. The sons of the flame had all been hot tempered and prone to tragic fates. The warmth radiating through the chamber made the former High King think immediately of the death which had befallen his beloved. He rushed forward until he stood close and had no idea how to douse the flames. He breathed in and watched.It was not a violent fire, Fingon realized. It was warm, but not burning hot to his spirit, even if he came close. It felt like comfort. The spirit that was Maedhros was cowered down in the middle, hiding in his own arms. He did not turn towards Fingon. Ignoring himas if he hadn’t spoken at all. The Son of Fingolfin understood with sudden clarity these flames were conjured up by Maedhros himself, not some strange manifestation of his fёa. What he did not know was if the fire was hurting his beloved. Standing close was not dangerous it seemed, but was it the same for one in the middle. Their bond revealed nothing and remained silent.</p><p class="western">Fingon could not watch it any longer. He reached out with his mind and the manifestation of his fёa and stepped into the flames. They did not burn him, but he felt a faint stinging because of the heat. He concentrated on his connection to Maedhros and whispered: “Stop the flames, love, Maedhros, please.”</p><p class="western">Again no reaction. Maedhros did not speak to him in return nor did he acknowledge Fingon’s presence. It hurt to see his beloved so unresponsive. Again fear welled up in Fingon.</p><p class="western">The Nolofinwion put his hand on Maedhros arm. He could not tell if it was his hand which was burning or just the fire around them. “Stop, love, please”, he said again, this time louder than before.</p><p class="western">Finally, the fire died down a bit. He must have reached his beloved.</p><p class="western">The cry that followed made Fingon flinch back. Maedhros reared up throwing his head back as if in agony. “Why are you back here? You should be alive, out of these halls!”, the desperate plea reached Fingon’s ears.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  
</p><p class="western">Maedhros among flames</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“I am alive, I have been for many years”, Fingon tried to calm his beloved. The picture of Maedhros rearing up still burned into his mind.</p><p class="western">“Then what are you doing here?”, Maedhros asked disbelieving. “You should not be in this place.”</p><p class="western">“I have much to tell you, much to discuss. I could not rest without you, for my feelings kept me awake”, Fingon explained. He had reached this conclusion with all the certainty he had. Finding Maedhros now, he wished he had come sooner. His beloved had found some healing, but he had drawn back from trying to find his way out of the Halls.</p><p class="western">“You should leave the halls without me, Finno. Námo has not released me and I find no healing in these Halls”, Maedhros begged. “Leave me!”</p><p class="western">The flames had died down enough so Fingon could see the shape of his beloved Maedhros better. His projection did not look much different from when Findekáno had seen him last. Even now, Maedhros had not manifested his right hand and the scars were still visible. The meaning behind this was not hard to decipher. Maedhros was still punishing himself for his deeds, never having heard the healing words of peace Fingon had heard from many elves he had wronged or hurt in the past.</p><p class="western">“I have done my healing mostly outside the Halls of Mandos”, Fingon declared, for it was the truth. He had come to terms with his own deeds in the Halls. He had learned how to interact with the elves he had wronged, lost and misled outside of them. Also, he had had the time to come to terms with what had happened after his own death. Of how his beloved had changed. What Maedhros did. “Námo has let me pass into the Halls. To help you.”</p><p class="western">“I am beyond help, Finno”, Maedhros whispered. “It would have been better if I had passed into the Void.”</p><p class="western">Fingon shook his head. At the mention of this possibility he cried more tears. “No”, he shook his head. “If the Halls are not for you, the Void is not either.” The problem was Maedhros had always understood the evil he had brought, had understood and regretted so much. Alqualondё had haunted him. Fingon knew not about Doriath and Sirion, but the fate which had befallen Maedhros left less to speculation. His beloved had known and searched for a way out of the Oath and the slaughter. He had found both, but not the healing which should have been his. The halls are a good place for reflection, but not for forgiveness.</p><p class="western">Maedhros laughed. “There is no fourth option, I am doomed to stay here for evermore.”</p><p class="western">“And who said that? As far as I can remember, Námo never put a special sentence on your siblings, only Fёanor shall remain in his care until the remaking of the world.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros did not answer, but the fire finally died. It allowed Fingon to see into his beloved’s eyes without the flames reflected in them. They were back to their stormy grey, radiating inner turmoil and pain. Fingon had seen them like this before, after Thangorodrim.</p><p class="western">“We swore the Oath in a way that was not to fulfil. Never under any circumstances”, Maedhros proclaimed. “By rights, I should have been sent to damnation.” How glad Fingon was this had not been the future set for any of the Fёanorians. The whole family, except for Nerdanel of course, had found their way into the Halls of Mandos. Otherwise he would have had to set his foot into the void to find Maedhros again and plead the Valar for years to be granted a step through the doors of night. Fingon would have followed his beloved even this far. Their bond was precious to him.</p><p class="western">“Your Oath was unfulfillable, but by giving away the stone, you renounced it, I think, or is it still bothering you?”</p><p class="western">Maedhros weak figure remained silent. It took some time until he spoke again, in wonder. “It is a burning wound upon my mind. But it does not compel me to violence any longer.”</p><p class="western">Fingon laid his right hand over Maedhros’ left. “I am sorry for the pain from it”, he said for a lack of anything else to say. “Will you show me?”, he finally asked. It was a weak hope to get Maedhros to agree to open their link up, to share a part of their fёa again.</p><p class="western">Maedhros shook his head. “I will not hurt you.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded in sadness. He had expected to be refused. “Will you at least promise me to let an experience healer look at the wound one day?”</p><p class="western">“There are healers for the mind?”, Maedhros asked. “There never were.”</p><p class="western">“We had to learn eventually.” The Noldor had endured so much in Beleriand. It had surprised Fingon, when in Hithlum the Avari had been more help with caring for Maedhros than his own people. Still, the Noldor had refused to learn the healing of the mind, until one Elrond, a peredhel of royal lines, had decided to make it his profession instead of becoming a fully fledged adviser. Fingon had learned a bit in the years following his rescue of his beloved from Morgoth’s claws, but his talent had never been neither healing nor warfare.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Finno, you still claim to love me. If you have learnt what happened after the Nirnaeth, you would not be standing here.”</p><p class="western">“I know what you did. The evil and the good. I have spoken with Gilgalad, Elrond, many other elves. Some of which died by your blade. And still I am here, professing my love for you.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros leant forward, against Fingon. His posture spoke of defeat, but also of trust and familiarity. “I do not deserve your forgiveness.”</p><p class="western">“That is not your decision to make. I forgive you. I forgive you, Maedhros.”</p><p class="western">A single tear slipped down the Maedhros cheek. “I missed you”, he whispered, slowly raising his arms and wrapping them around Fingon.</p><p class="western">It was the first intimate touch for Fingon in months and he nearly broke out in tears at the connection. It was incorporeal, so it lacked some of the warmth and weight, but it was enough.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Do you really think I can leave this place?”, Maedhros asked. “Not immediately, no, but some day?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. Your youngest siblings, the Ambarussa, are reunited with your mother. Rebirth is an option open to you.”</p><p class="western">“What of the others?” Maedhros drew back a little. “What of your siblings?”</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled a bit unsure how he should answer. He settled for gently honesty. “My siblings are alive. And Maglor has sailed, he lives with me and Finrod. Why your other brothers aren’t back, I do not know. Maybe they are not ready.”</p><p class="western">“Maybe.” Maedhros conceded. “I am so glad you are here, Finno.”</p><p class="western">“I am happy to finally have found you.”</p><p class="western">“I knew you were alive”, Maedhros whispered. “I knew you left the halls and I was glad.”</p><p class="western">It broke Fingon’s heart to hear this. It told him just what he had left behind, but he had needed to get out. The Halls had not been a good place for him any longer. Now that he was back, he felt more ready than ever to deal with the things he needed to face. “I never found you when I was searching for you then…”</p><p class="western">“I did not want you to see me”, Maedhros confessed. “I have learned to cope with much during these past centuries, you would not have recognized me then.”</p><p class="western">“It hurt, you hiding from me. But…”, he hesitated. “I understand now.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros wrapped his fёa around Fingon in comfort. The feeling crawled along the link connecting their minds. It was only a fraction of what they had shared in the past, but more than they had felt from each other in the so long.</p><p class="western">“I feel you”, Fingon said. If he had truly been in his body, he would have wept. The feeling of his eyes burning with unshed tears was the same. “I can feel you.”</p><p class="western">“I see you”, Maedhros whispered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Forwards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Going forward is a step towards progress</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Their embrace lasted for a while until Fingon drew back a little. “You are much healed”, he remarked. Despite the fire, Maedhros fёa did not extrude much anguish or turmoil. He seemed very calm now that he understood why his beloved was in the Halls again. The flames, he suspected, were part of him as much as they had been part of Fёanáro.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros remained silent for a few moments. “The years were long and I had much time to think.” He stared at the blackened wall. “Most progress happened since you left this place…”</p>
<p class="western">“I am glad for it”, Fingon whispered. “When I left, you wouldn’t even meet me.”</p>
<p class="western">“I am sorry for this now.”</p>
<p class="western">“I have forgiven you this long ago. Tell me, have you seen your family since, I know you refused to meet them too. Námo told me.”</p>
<p class="western">“No. But. I can’t leave the halls before I have spoken with them.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon leaned in again and squeezed Maedhros shoulders. “Do you fear their words still?”</p>
<p class="western">“It is not a fear, merely a slight discomfort.”</p>
<p class="western">“Then I will stand by your side.”</p>
<p class="western">Now it was Maedhros who drew back a little. “I do not want to keep you in the halls for my sake.”</p>
<p class="western">“I am staying on my own free will, as long as you will allow me by your side. Now that I found you, I do not want to leave again.”</p>
<p class="western">“Finno…”</p>
<p class="western">“Please Mae, allow me this. It has been far too long.”</p>
<p class="western">The flames flickered up again and Fingon felt as if he had stepped wrong. He needed Maedhros, but he was less sure if he was welcome by his lover’s side. His fair one seemed to deal with some problems still. But on the other hand, Elrond’s words echoed in his mind all the time. S<em>ometimes we do need the ones we love by our side.</em> <em>It is alright to be a bit selfish.</em> Fingon felt selfish for imposing on Maedhros <span>this way</span>.</p>
<p class="western">“Calm, my dear”, Maedhros whispered, the flames dying a bit again. “I can feel your thoughts racing.”</p>
<p class="western">“You can..?”</p>
<p class="western">“It is like a hum. I am not going to send you away, but you may not like what you are going to find.”</p>
<p class="western">“I have seen the worst already”, Fingon said confidently. He had seen much horrors in his time, his beloved strung up on a mountain, the dead bodies of his friends piled up high – Beleriand had not been kind. His family was the last thing Fingon feared these days.</p>
<p class="western">“My brothers, I doubt they changed much if Námo has not sent them out of here yet.”</p>
<p class="western">“They may not be ready, but I am. I came to find you, Mae, and I will follow you this time.”</p>
<p class="western">It was a mirror of a conversation they had once had in a tent at the shores of Mithrim, at a time when Maedhros had been considered High King still by their kin, even though in private he had decided to give up the crown already, making Fingon the High Prince. Maedhros had promised his loyalty to his beloved that night, conditionally of course because of the oath, but he had promised to ‘Follow you this time’. It was obvious the fёa clad in flame recognized the <span>reflection of the past</span> too, because he smiled a crooked smile and grabbed Fingon’s hand.</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Who shall we go for first? I propose Caranthir.” There was hope growing in Fingon and he itched for action. The Halls were not his favourite place. Of the brothers who remained in Mandos, Caranthir was the one Fingon had been the most distant to, but had conflicting feelings about.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “As good as any of them. Why him?”</p>
<p class="western">“With him, I had the least quarrels”, Fingon confessed. He left out the bitter feeling he had about the battle of the Union.</p>
<p class="western">His beloved stopped and looked at him, fёa to fёa. Warmth spread through the dark haired one again as their spirits embraced for another time.</p>
<p class="western">Then, finally, Maedhros leant in and kissed Fingon on the lips for the first time in several millennia. It felt so good.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">For how long they remained like this, neither of them knew. There was nothing marking the passing of time, as in the Halls it was a concept which did not truly exist. Fingon was becoming aware his stay in that place could span years for the ones outside waiting for them. He would not turn back for them without Maedhros. He had given instructions to not wait for his return, however long it would take.</p>
<p class="western">“Your thoughts are reeling”, Maedhros mouthed. “What has you worried.”</p>
<p class="western">“Not worried, just thoughtful. I had many of our family accompany me to the Halls, as support political and emotional. I hope they listen to my words and do not wait.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros <span>looked at him</span>. “Who came with you for me?”, he asked, placing emphasis on the last word.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon smiled. “Oh, many you know. Your mother and Maglor to name the first two. Gil-Galad and your son Elrond. Even my father. He knows of us now, I had to tell him.”</p>
<p class="western">It was another name which had made Maedhros’ jaw drop. “Elrond?” There was a look of total surprise on <span>his </span>face and the fire was flaring up again. Fingon felt it warm against his fёa. It was not a threatening heat, conveying only love and strong affection.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes. He was most eager”, he chuckled.</p>
<p class="western">“He was the best thing in my last years in Beleriand, but what Maglor and I did to him, it was evil…” It was a confession, one from deep within the fёa.</p>
<p class="western">“He has forgiven you both. Once you have reclaimed your hröa, you can take it up with him”, Fingon promised.</p>
<p class="western">These were the wrong words apparently, as Maedhros stared at his arms and his hand again. “He really wants to see me?”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes, of course. He already welcomed Maglor back into his life as a father and is waiting for you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Maglor? How is he?”</p>
<p class="western">“Better now. He was not well when he arrived on these shores.”</p>
<p class="western">“I left him…” Guilt. It was a voice laced with it which Maedhros used.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon carefully stroked his beloved’s back. “He is hoping for your return too. I think he will have a few chosen words for you, but he misses you greatly. But that is something to think of later. Now, where do we have to go to find Caranthir?”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The fire never left Maedhros as they strolled through the Halls of Mandos. Never once did the glow die down. It lit up the shadowy parts of the place. The halls did not do their name justice. From the outside, they gave off the impression of a tall and high building, but once inside, it was a maze <span>of hallways and smaller rooms tinged in shadows or imagination. Only sometimes a f</span><span>ё</span><span>a passed by, making way for them or completely ignoring them. Fingon easily lost his sense of direction. His only beacon was Maedhros and now that he had found him, he knew not where to go. His beloved seemed to have some kind of familial bond pulling him towards lighter parts of the halls. </span><span>There was nothing like this for Fingon here anymore, his siblings had left the Halls long ago. They had met each other as f</span><span>ё</span><span>a like this in the beginning. To his cousins of Fёanáro’s house, Fingon had no such connection, except for his bond to Maedhros. To the others he had not been that close, the rift between their houses had prevented such.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>T</span>
  <span>hey were gliding through the long hallways. These were ornamented, with engravings of Telerin style. It was beautiful in a different way to the Noldorin architecture. It was more decoration than function. This was the main difference, as the Noldor generally preferred the latter and it was reflected in their cities. </span>
  <span>It was surprising to see the different markings in the Halls though.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros noticed Fingon’s interest in the walls. “I came to the understanding most craftspeople are unsatisfied with the bare walls of the Halls. I was fine with the space I occupied, but I don’t think the same goes for, let’s say Curufin.”</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh. I never tried to change the hallways, I was mostly drifting aimlessly around”, Fingon recounted. It was strange to remember such things when he could not on the outside of the Halls. Now the memories of his stay here were much clearer. </span><span>His craft was also more in song than in stone-masonry, so maybe that was it. Fingon had sung for himself sometimes, songs from Beleriand and even Aman before. He had even composed a bit, but had never sung these tunes since, for </span><span>the one he wanted to sing them for had not been there.</span></p>
<p class="western">“Thank you for coming.” Maedhros slowed down and turned towards Fingon. “Thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to find the motivation without you.”</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I am here for you”, the dark-haired one answered and reached out through their connection again. It was not long until they were embracing again, basking in the presence of each other.</span></p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It felt like a long time passed until t</span>
  <span>hey ended up at a </span>
  <span>finely </span>
  <span>decorated door </span>
  <span>of black painted wood. The carved vines were polished to a shine. As every elven culture had such ornaments it was impossible to tell to which fraction the maker had belonged.</span>
  <span> A tapestry was hanging </span>
  <span>in the middle of the door</span>
  <span>, depicting a garden and a seamstress. </span>
  <span>The craft of the piece was extraordinary and almost life-like. Fingon was just glad it was not one of the moving tapestries which showed the past. This one was not of such enhancement, only a picture, albeit a masterful one.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“What is this?”, Fingon asked appreciating the craft. So far, they had neither seen doors nor tapestries, so this was a first. There had not been other art than the carvings on the walls which they had passed.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros had not more understanding for the strange thing. He passed this to his beloved and looked closer. The seamstress was probably Vairё, the Weaver and patron of her craft. All he knew was his fourth brother was somewhere behind the door and passing through it would lead them onto the direct path to him.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Fingon felt unsure of how much Námo would allow them to do. </span>
  <span>There could be something not for his eyes behind this door.</span>
  <span> After all, the dark haired one was only a guest in the halls, not one of the dead. So fair, no limits had been set, but this door felt forbidden. “Shall we open it?” </span>
  <span>If they were able to open it, then they were allowed to pass through, at least this was Fingon’s conviction on the matter.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “Yes. Caranthir is somewhere behind this and I need to see him. We are close, I can feel it. Are you ready?”</p>
<p class="western">“I am. Let’s go.”</p>
<p class="western">It was the red-haired ellon who pressed the silver handle down and pressed. Without a sound, the wooden door swung aside, revealing what lay behind it.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Behind the door was a garden. </span>
  <span>The shift from the twilight of the hallways to the brightness of the greenery was immediate and the two f</span>
  <span>ё</span>
  <span>ar were blinded for only a small moment until they adjusted. The air also had a different quality in the garden, it was clear. Maybe the trees were responsible, they stretched out as a forest which started only a hundred steps away from the door. The border was a wall, but the garden was big and neither Maedhros nor Fingon could see what lay behind the trees. There was a small path leading towards the forest, overgrown with grass as if it had not been used in ages.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“Where are we?”, Fingon asked. He had never seen this part of the Halls.</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t know”, Maedhros whispered. He still seemed to glow from the inside, but he was steadier now. “The only thing I know is that Caranthir must be somewhere here.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. He trusted his old friend’s intuition. The brothers had always been close and even though he had not much love left four the fourth Fёanorion, he would stand beside Maedhros.</p>
<p class="western">The stepped over the threshold into the garden. It had a dream-like quality.</p>
<p class="western">“I think this place has been touched by Irmo”, Fingon said. “This feels exactly like I imagine his power to manifest.”</p>
<p class="western">“It is likely”, Maedhros agreed. “He and Námo are close, so it is possible their realms reflect this. But there is another power at work here.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon tried to feel closer into the energy in the garden, but he could not discern the part Maedhros was speaking about. Together they entered deeper into the space, towards were dark trees began lining the meadow they were standing in.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Last chapter of the year! I wish you all a good beginning of 2021 and hope to read from you then!<br/>Next chapter: Next week (as always)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The Fate of Brothers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One is found</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“Behind the forest”, Maedhros said. “There is Caranthir.”</p>
<p class="western">They followed a path overgrown with grass into the small forest. It did not stretch on for long. Instead, it soon gave way to a circular building with delicate structures. It resembled the drawings Fingon had been shown by Elrond of Imladris.</p>
<p class="western">There was one big difference. This place was used by many fёa or otherwise formed spirits like Maiar. All of them were working on a big tapestry and Fingon suddenly understood which the third power was his beloved had felt. This must be part of Vairё’s realm and these spirits were helping her in her work. Judging by Maedhros silence, he must have had the same realization.</p>
<p class="western">“Are you sure Caranthir is here?”, Fingon asked in a hushed tone.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros just nodded. “He is.”</p>
<p class="western">And indeed, a tall fёa came towards them, resembling the fourth of Fёanor’s sons. His expression was one of joy and concern, a mix which was strange. He lacked all the anger he had borne for so long.</p>
<p class="western">“Maedhros, bother mine, it is good to see you”, the dark haired Fёanorion said in greeting. “Last I saw you…”</p>
<p class="western">“I was not in the best frame of mind”, Maedhros concluded the sentence. “I am sorry you had to see this, and for me not answering your call.”</p>
<p class="western">“I see Finno finally came for you.”</p>
<p class="western">The look Caranthir gave Fingon was one of calculation, but it wasn’t unfriendly. It was of a calm neutrality, which was refreshing. Fingon and he had never been friends and had loud disputes at least once a year during their youth. At feasts they had been kept apart on purpose.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes. I am glad for it. Without him, I would not have found the courage to come here.”</p>
<p class="western">“I am surprised you were able to enter this part of the Halls”, Caranthir said bluntly. “This goes for both of you. These is the domain of Vairё the Weaver.”</p>
<p class="western">“I suspected as much”, Maedhros answered. “The question is, what are you doing here?”</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir deflated a bit. “I am to stay here.”</p>
<p class="western">“What?”, Fingon asked. This was news to him and he would hate to break Nerdanel’s heart having to tell her this.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes”, Caranthir said. “It is my choice.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros reached out and grabbed on of Caranthir’s hands. The three wandered a bit away from the structure into the trees and there the Fourth began to speak. “In the Halls, our grandmother Miriel came to me. She had seen my early needlework…”</p>
<p class="western">“You…?”</p>
<p class="western">“Don’t look so shocked, Finno. Everyone in this family has a craft which they are gifted in and mine happens to be embroidery.”</p>
<p class="western">“I never -”</p>
<p class="western">“It was nothing I showed to the people openly”, Caranthir said. With pride he added. “Some of grandfather’s tunics were my work.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon closed his mouth. He remembered well the ornate tunics Finwё had worn at court, beautiful things embroidered with hand to the extent the images seemed to move with every shift of the light. Truly, Caranthir was talented. Fingon had never thought about what this cousin’s craft was. Maedhros was exceptionally gifted with diplomacy and had excelled at calligraphy before he lost his right hand and Maglor had been renowned for his song, but about Caranthir Fingon had never mused.</p>
<p class="western">“You met Miriel?”, Maedhros asked, focussing on the other revelation.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes. She offered me a place in Vairё’s service, as soon as I was ready. I accepted.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon swallowed. He knew what this was. This was the beginning of a final goodbye. Caranthir had obviously chosen to stay at this place, until the Remaking. It suited him, he had to agree. His cousin had always had problems with the general population of Valinor, preferring to stay away from the crowds and in solitude.</p>
<p class="western">“You’re staying forever here?”</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t know”, Caranthir said. “The option of re-embodiment has not been taken from me, as Vairё stated explicitly when she took me in. I do not think I will return to the living soon. Maybe one day, but I have found my calling here.”</p>
<p class="western">From Maedhros side, Fingon felt great sorrow at hearing this. He grabbed his beloved’s hand and pressed gently, conveying comfort down their bond.</p>
<p class="western">“I am glad you found a place where you are happy”, Maedhros whispered. “Even if it means we won’t see each other again in a long time.”</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir smiled sadly. “I will keep watch over our family from here. Will you tell mother of my decision?”</p>
<p class="western">“I will”, Maedhros promised. “I fear she will not take it well.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “She misses you all terribly.”</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Silence followed and Maedhros offered his arms in a hug for Caranthir. Fingon had let go of his hand and took a few steps back and turned away. This was a private moment between the brothers and he dared not disturb. He knew Caranthir had been lost to Maedhros </span>
  <span>in Doriath and thus had been separated for long</span>
  <span>, they deserved some moments to themselves.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“Fingon”, Caranthir suddenly called.</p>
<p class="western">The former High King turned around to where his beloved and cousin stood close to each other.</p>
<p class="western">“Come here.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon went to them as they asked. When he stood in front of his dark cousin, he placed his arms on his shoulder. Caranthir leaned in and placed his forehead against Fingon’s. “There are two things I need to tell you. First of all, I am sorry, for my failure which led to your demise. Second of all, I wish you and Maedhros all the best. I have seen your love in the tapestries and it is blindingly obvious you will have a great future ahead.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you”, Fingon whispered back. He was sure Maedhros had heard every word.</p>
<p class="western">He pulled back and posed another question. “Do you know of the other brothers which are still in the Halls?”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">“Celegorm and Curufin are idiots.”</p>
<p class="western">“I agree with the sentiment”, Fingon said. “But what have they done to warrant this judgement from you?”</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir snorted. “Celegorm could actually be reborn, but he hides because he fears being visited by Oromё. As if he Halls would be a deterrent to the Valar. The Hunter is simply taking Celegorm’s wishes into account.”</p>
<p class="western">“He’s still in love with the Vala?”, Maedhros asked disbelieving.</p>
<p class="western">“Never stopped”, Caranthir revealed. “You should have seen him in Beleriand, how bad tempered he was after Huan was gone.”</p>
<p class="western">“And Curufin?”</p>
<p class="western">“Worse reason than Celegorm”, Caranthir snapped. “He reasons it will be better for his son if he stays dead. Avoids every visitor like the plague, but he keeps father company.”</p>
<p class="western">“How is Fёanor?”, Fingon asked.</p>
<p class="western">“Fёanáro is still burning”, Caranthir said. “Not the best company, if you ask me. Still brilliant and a linguist at heart, you should hear him waxing about Sindarin, it is a pleasure. At least he’s not sprouting anti-Valar talk and conspiracy theories anymore, which I would call development.”</p>
<p class="western">“A relief”, Fingon muttered. “Without Námo’s help I would have never been able to see Maedhros now.”</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir nodded. “They were nice to me, despite my wrongdoings and the anger I directed towards them.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros agreed in silence. He had been shown mercy by the Valar and Eru apparently, for his Oath hadn’t sent him into the everlasting darkness outside the spheres of the world. He would not rebel against them soon, but he would not be sorry for the first time. Fingon knew this, because he was of the same mind. Beleriand had brought them so much pain, but also new things good and bad. Experiences he was glad for and which the ones who had never left the sheltered realm lacked.</p>
<p class="western">“So you are telling me I have to tell Nerdanel the news that three of her children will not return from the Halls soon?”, Fingon asked. “Because they are too afraid and are in hiding?”</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir sighed. “Two of them. My decision was based on other circumstances, as you very well know now. But if you wish, you can tell her there may be forgiveness for her husband.”</p>
<p class="western">If Fingon had held something, he would surely have dropped it. Considering the current situation, he opened his mouth but no sound came out of it. This was news indeed.</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir shushed them, before they could answer. “I heard Vairё talk about father with Námo and Nienna. I do not know if they have reached a conclusion, but they were discussing his rehabilitation, or at least visitation rights as his progress is very slow for one in the Halls.”</p>
<p class="western">“Visitation?”, Maedhros asked. “I have no wish to see him soon, the one time was enough.”</p>
<p class="western">“You saw him?” So far, Maedhros had not talked much about his stay in the Halls. Some thoughts had bled through their bond, but not enough to span the centuries.</p>
<p class="western">“Once. He wanted to know why I gave the crown to your father and he was not friendly about it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes, stubborn bastard, but be in the family”, Caranthir interjected. “They were discussing mother’s pleas, maybe they are getting annoyed…”</p>
<p class="western">“What of Celebrimbor?”, Maedhros asked, to make the family tree complete.</p>
<p class="western">“I haven’t seen him”, the fourth Fёanorion replied. “Of his fate I know almost nothing and the words which passed to me were not optimistic.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “My son told me how Celebrimbor came to the Halls. They were friends once and Gil-Galad misses him.”</p>
<p class="western">Caranthir laid his head to one side. “Ah. Their friendship was great indeed.” He must have watched through the tapestries then and seen much. As servant of Vairё it was no surprise. Maybe he even knew what would happen, but Fingon did not ask. He was glad he was not burdened by foresight as so many of his relatives were.</p>
<p class="western">“You are curious”, Caranthir gathered, as if he had read the thoughts. “Rest assured, fate is woven as it happens, nothing is set in thread, to play with the proverb.”</p>
<p class="western">Next to them, a faint smile broke out on Maedhros face. As a linguist, he certainly took pleasure in such quips.</p>
<p class="western">Shortly after this, Fingon stepped back, wanting to give the two brothers as much time as they needed. He understood there were some words left unsaid, loving and with scorn, but none of them were for his ears. He wandered aimlessly through the forest, looking at the trees. They felt nothing like Yvanna’s creations, so he surmised they must belong to Irmo or Vairё, spun of dreams and not real. His fёa was tricked by it, feeling the bark and the leaves on the surface of his form.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">After Maedhros had said goodbye to Caranthir and the brother had gone back to his work, he and Fingon searched for a place to sit down between the trees. They found the perfect spot at the foot of a big oak, nestled between the enormous root of it.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon noticed his beloved was weary, the conversation had taken it’s toll on both of them. Maedhros settled into his arms quietly. The red-haired ellon rested his face against Fingon’s neck. Their difference in height made it an awkward tangle of limbs, but it was comfortable.</p>
<p class="western">“The decision suits him”, Maedhros whispered. “He has finally found a calling, so why am I sad?”</p>
<p class="western">“Maybe because this is a parting of the ways”, Fingon mused. “This could have been the last conversation you had.”</p>
<p class="western">“We had many such meetings in Beleriand, where we knew every time could have been the last time”, the red-haired ellon argued.</p>
<p class="western">“And yet there was hope. Here the way is more clear, he’s going to stay with Vairё…”</p>
<p class="western">“Caranthir will be happy, I have seen it in his eyes.”</p>
<p class="western">Again, Fingon was reminded about the past, where Maedhros had cared much for his younger brothers, sometimes like being another father to them when Fёanor was consumed by one of his projects. Not that Fёanor had been a bad parent, he had in fact been awesome, expect for the few instances where he had forgotten the time in his workshop. The whole family had adjusted, mostly by Maedhros stepping in and helping. Later Maglor helped as well.</p>
<p class="western">“Maybe. But this does not have to mean you have to be happy with it. Your feelings are valid”, Fingon reminded his beloved.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros nodded and kept quiet for a while. “You said Maglor is back? Can you tell me about him?”</p>
<p class="western">It was the plea for a distraction. “Of course. But you won’t like what I am going to tell you. He survived, barely. Elrond found him and brought him to Valinor again. Maglor lived with your son for a while on Tol Eresseä, until he was stable enough to move to the bay I built a small settlement at.”</p>
<p class="western">“What about…?”</p>
<p class="western">“His silmaril he threw in the sea, but the burns on his hands remained untreated for too long. I have been mixing him the salve we used… He’s slowly getting better, by now he can play his harp again.”</p>
<p class="western">No breath was needed in the Halls of Mandos, but Maedhros took one in anyway. “I am glad”, he uttered. “I had feared worse…”</p>
<p class="western">“Your brother is incredibly stubborn and is healing. Finrod’s presence seems to help too.”</p>
<p class="western">“Finrod… He’s living with you too?”</p>
<p class="western">“Námo basically dumped him on me, I know not why.”</p>
<p class="western">“It’s good. He had Maglor had been friends when the trees still stood.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “They told me as much. I know less about Maglor’s dwelling in Middle-Earth during the last Ages. I think he told Elrond, but he doesn’t share much.”</p>
<p class="western">At this, Maedhros smiled a bit. His expression held sadness. “I imagine he holds on to much. I miss him.” The last words were barely above a whisper, but they reminded Fingon about the closeness of the two brothers. Maglor had told him they had been, as the last surviving members of their house, burdened by the Oath. He leaned in and hugged his partner more closely.</p>
<p class="western">It took a while for Maedhros to start speaking again. “I am glad I did not have to bury him too.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon swallowed. These were sad topics, but he would listen carefully. “I understand”, he whispered. He himself had to bury his youngest brother after the crossing of the Ice and later on many of his friends. He regretted he had not been able to care for his father, he had only learned later that the eagles had taken Fingolfin’s body to Gondolin.</p>
<p class="western">“Burying the others… It was hard. Especially after Doriath.”</p>
<p class="western">The three middle children had died, Celegorm, Caranthir and Curufin. Slain in their quest to fulfil their Oath. Fingon had been dead by the time Fёanor’s cruel words had awoken in the brothers.</p>
<p class="western">“I know we deserved it”, Maedhros whispered. “And many times I wished I had died with them or with you”, a tear slipped down his cheek, “the Oath kept me alive until the end, when the silmaril burnt me.”</p>
<p class="western">The burning question was still upon Fingon’s mind and he was sure Maedhros saw it in his thoughts.</p>
<p class="western">“Why Doriath? I suppose it was the only chance to reduce the pain the Oath had us in – I tried to negotiate with the heirs of Thingol, but to no avail. They kept the stolen stone as their heirloom, as if they had any right to it”, Maedhros sobbed. “I never wanted to attack, but the others would have gone without me and died all.” Another sob shook him. In the end, his loyalty had always been with his family and Fingon understood this well. Much could have gone different if the dealings with Doriath had gone differently, but that was a bridge which had burnt together with Alqualondё.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon sat there and held his beloved as he felt the sorrow again, brought on by his deeds. It was not the time to tell Maedhros about the new kingdom built by reborn elves of Doriath. Thingol wasn’t back and the Noldor suspected he would stay in fёa only together with Melian forever, so the kingdom was ruled now by a set of silver-haired twins. The politics of the Fourth Age of Valinor were complicated ones and not a good topic within the halls, considering Fingon had no idea of how much Maedhros had seen in the tapestries.</p>
<p class="western">All Fingon could do was to hold Maedhros close as he had always done and listen. The grief came in waves and many a story, the former High King had not know before. Little things about the brothers, about Himring and about his beloved’s thoughts. He kept those words in his heart and remembered them well. There would be much a conversation to follow this one, at another time and when they both hopefully had bodies again.</p>
<p class="western">All in all, Maedhros was doing surprisingly fine. It was obvious he had done the healing he could do on his own, but as Elrond had postulated, he needed someone to talk to. After their visit with Caranthir, it was less certain whether they would search for the other brothers too. Celegorm would seemingly find his way on his own and if Curufin was with Fёanor, it was not a good idea to search for them. Maedhros had made it clear he would not visit his father, who he loved, but hated at the same time. They were at a point where there were many possible ways for them to take and it was Maedhros’ decision to pick one of them.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Author's note: The garden is an illusion created by Irmo for the fea who work for Vaire but do not want/are unablet to enter a hroa again</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. About Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Conversations are had, about those dead and those returned</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Due to personal reasons, this chapter is a bit shorter than usual</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What about your siblings?”, Maedhros asked later. They had gone back into the Halls. The door to Vairё’s garden had vanished behind them, something which Fingon regretted. He had felt more comfortable there, but he was aware their time there had been limited.<br/>Fingon sighed. “They are fine.”<br/>“I feel there is more behind your words.”<br/>Fingon sighed. “I have my differences with Turgon still about our dealings in the Union.”<br/>“Why? Without his forces we would have all been killed.” Maedhros’ expression was concerned and his left eyebrow raised.<br/>“I know. Just. If he had taken part in the planning, we could maybe have won, but without him to lead his army, last minute plans were almost impossible, as I am sure you have heard.”<br/>“I heard their arrival surprised you”, Maedhros said. “It just didn’t occur to me that you felt resentment towards him because of it. We were never able to talk after.” He grimaced.<br/>“I was certainly more than a bit frustrated by his silence when the idea of the union came up. To this day, our relationship is very much strained.”<br/>“Oh. Where does he dwell these days?”<br/>Fingon smiled. “Building another city. I think he’s going to call it Gondolinya, somewhere in the mountains.”<br/>“Not a creative name”, Maedhros groused, ever the linguist. The disappointment was a mockery though.<br/>“Could be worse.”<br/>“Have you seen this city of his?”<br/>“Once, in the early stages when I still was at Arafinwё’s court. I did not stay for long as there was not much love between me and Turgon. The city is beautiful, if I may say so.”<br/>“Does he know?”<br/>“No. I guess he suspected after Thangorodrim”, Fingon replied, correctly guessing his beloved was referring to their relationship. “But let’s not talk about him. <br/>“You know we will talk about this again?”, Maedhros reminded him carefully.<br/>Fingon nodded. “I am aware, but let’s not do so in the Halls.”<br/>“Agreed. You said he’s building anther city? Tell me, has Valinor changed much?”<br/>“Oh yes, there are many new settlements. After Beleriand sunk beneath the waves, more land has appeared here, apparently because of the shift, I am not in the knowledge of the specifics. Well, my bay came out of it… On the old main land, the Sinda kingdoms have risen, one which follows Galadriel.”<br/>Maedhros smiled. “She was always destined to become a ruler on her own merits, though it is strange that Sinda elves would follow her.”<br/>“Apparently she ruled a great kingdom in the Third Age with wisdom. Also, do not forget her husband is of Thingol’s kin.”<br/>“Tell me more”, Maedhros begged and Fingon began to speak.</p><p>“What of Aredhel and Argon? You told me she had been returned to you.”<br/>“She has and she is in good spirits most of the time. She misses her son though.”<br/>“Maeglin, right?”<br/>“Yes. You know of his fate, do you?”<br/>“Yes. It was a cruel one. I hope he is granted healing in the Halls. Not for your sisters sake, but his own.”<br/>Fingon understood why Maedhros was phrasing his sentiment this way. He had always been full of empathy for the other victims of Morgoth and it was good to see he had not changed.<br/>“And Argon?”<br/>“He was the first one to return to life of my family. He was already in Tirion with my mother when I returned. Lately, he is with Turgon and the city he’s building. I think he and his wife will settle there once it is finished.”<br/>Maedhros nodded. “Your family deserves peace now. You were drawn into much of it against your better judgement.”<br/>“We went willingly. We could have turned back with Arafinwё. This is nothing which should carry the responsibility for”, Fingon argued. His voice made it clear there would be no discussion about this.</p><p>”You haven’t told me how you came to be here”, Maedhros said with a faltering voice. Reluctantly he added “You don’t feel like the other fёa which I met briefly in passsing.”<br/>Fear and uncertainty was emitted down their bond and Fingon understood. His beloved feared he had undertaken another great quest in coming to the Halls for his sake. It wasn’t far off the truth, it retrospect it felt a bit like a quest. The stakes had not been that threatening, thankfully. “I am alive, though my fёa dwells now separated from it’s hröa. It certainly feels strange.”<br/>“How?”<br/>“I employed the help of our family to persuade Námo to allow me entrance.”<br/>“And they complied?”<br/>Fingon smiled as well as he was able to. “Yes. I think they like me.”<br/>“I am relieved you took not my way”, Maedhros breathed after a while of silence. “I think it would have broken my heart to lead you down a dark path.”<br/>“It was not your fault, your death”, Fingon protested. He had talked about this topic with Elrond before and he supported the peredhel’s assessment of the situation. “It was a sickness of the fёa which led your steps, your son told me, and you’re the last to blame.”<br/>“And it were my deeds…”<br/>“Nobody can’t be expected to live through what you went through and come out of it unscathed. Maedhros. Please. Don’t put the blame on yourself.” Fingon reached out and touched Maedhros arm.<br/>“I think I will take much healing before these thoughts will not be so heavy on my mind anymore.”<br/>Another smile stole itself on the dark-haired ellon’s face. “I love you”, he whispered and knew love would not right what had been done. The words Maedhros had spoken showed how far he had already come in his own healing. There was no doubt there were dark thoughts in his mind still and Fingon loved him no less for it.</p><p>“I have to confess something”, Maedhros said and a shiver ran through Fingon. The feelings transmitted through their bond were disconcerting.<br/>They were dwelling in another long hallway, wandering aimlessly through the Halls of Mandos. There was no goal to reach, no step forced onto them. They had all the time they needed, but now anticipation was drumming in Fingon’s mind. The opening alone, coupled with the feelings, made him anxious.<br/>“What about?”, he asked softly, trying to calm his beloved a bit.<br/>“The day I died. Part of me wished to never regain consciousness. Never again.”<br/>Fingon hesitated. “You mean..?”<br/>“Like men do”, Maedhros confessed. “It was wrong for me to hope for it…”<br/>“No. It wasn’t”, Fingon replied. “The wish is strange to me and my fёa rebels against the thought of it, for it would have meant for me to loose you.”<br/>“Now I am glad I wasn’t granted the gift, for now it frightens me, the fate of men. That day though”, he trailed off.<br/>Fingon raised his hand and let his fingers wander through the hair of the projection of Maedhros’ fёa. The strands were still shining with fire, but felt like silk against the skin. “I am glad Eru granted you relief”, he whispered.<br/>“Me too. Even though I do not know how I deserved it.”<br/>“Maybe it’s not about deserving. Because I certainly have not done much better in life than you did.”<br/>“You were a kinslayer only once and you went into it unknowingly.”<br/>“And still I bloodied my sword with the blood of our kin. I think we elves shall never fully understand the One.”<br/>Maedhros nodded. “I thank the Valar for it. And now you tell me there is a way for us to fully reunited in hröa too. It is hard to believe this, after all the time I spent here thinking I could never return.”<br/>“And yet it is the truth. Your Oath has not been enforced, as you are not in the Halls. Why should leaving the Halls be prohibited?”<br/>Fingon saw his words had reached his beloved’s ears and mind.</p><p>“All but one of my siblings died”, Maedhros mused a bit later. “Tell me about Maglor, Fingon. He was the closest and the last of us.”<br/>“He dwelled for long after your death, wandering the shores for millennia and singing the Noldolante.”<br/>“The saddest piece he ever wrote. He loved and hated it”, Maedhros recounted. “Every time we raised our swords, he added another verse to remember those wronged by our deeds. It was oh so long in the end.”<br/>“I never heard it in it’s full length. Not much time has passed since he took up his harp again. The silmaril badly damaged his hand.”<br/>“As it did mine”, Maedhros whispered and raised the appendage and showed it to Fingon. “Even this manifestation of my fёa carries it’s mark. I fear it will never leave me.”<br/>“Maglor was able to heal enough to allow for movement and you have suffered worse injuries, my love, and recovered. Whatever the result will be, we can deal with it together.”<br/>Maedhros smiled. “I wish to see Maglor soon.”</p><p>“Have you thought about your other brothers again?”<br/>“I don’t think I want to meet them”, Maedhros stated. “Celegorm and Curufin were distant to me shortly before their ends. I will wait for their own release of this place.”<br/>“Don’t you think it would be better to try and close the distance between you?”<br/>“No. And if we believe the words of Caranthir, Curufin is with atar and him…”<br/>“I understand”, Fingon whispered. “I also did not see them before I left the halls, for I couldn’t forgive. But maybe we could try finding Celebrimbor?”<br/>“I have no connection to him”, Maedhros revealed, eyes downcast and extruding sadness. “He was – is my nephew and I have no connection to him.” Desperation grew in his voice and the flames flared again.<br/>“Shh”, Fingon tried to calm him. “It’s alright. He made his decision and we should be proud of him for it.” Celebrimbor had turned his back on his father and with him to the whole family. Fingon knew Maedhros had been grieved by this, but had understood. This way, his nephew had not become tied to the oath. That he had died in the hands of the evil was a great tragedy. <br/>“I am glad for it”, Maedhros whispered. “But still I wish I could find him here.”<br/>“Me too.” Fingon had liked Celebrimbor, even though he had seen him much after their ways had parted. Only once or twice the princes had met during sessions and even then, the youngest had drawn back from the politics of the elders, preferring his forge. Many of the swords wielded by the leaders and warriors in the fifth battle had been made by Fёanor’s grandson. Some had later passed through the ages and found their way back to Aman as keepsakes and mementos. Fingon had seen them on several walls in the homes of the reborn, Celebrimbor’s mark on the blades shining as if new.<br/>Fingon and Maedhros embraced and stayed like this for a while. The time outside the Halls passed.</p><p>“I am ready now”, Maedhros whispered later. He had spent a lot of their time together in deep thoughts. “Let’s go and leave this place.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. About Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“Are you sure?”, Fingon asked.</p>
<p class="western">The glare Maedhros gave him indicated the question had not been necessary. He was sure, as he had always been in his decisions after Thangorodrim. Maedhros was a tactician and strategist. If he stated something big, he meant it, for better or worse.</p>
<p class="western">Now it was just a matter of finding the right way. Thankfully Námo had given instructions to Fingon on how to find his own hröa. He just needed to think about returning and a tugging in his mind told him the direction.</p>
<p class="western">“Let’s go”, he agreed and pointed towards where the hallway vanished in the mist.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">They found the way to where Fingon had left his body themselves. It was a long way through the desolate hallways and they had much time for conversation. This time it was mostly Fingon who shared what had happened after his own rebirth. How he had dealt with the more diplomatic missions than he had wanted for Arafinwё’s sake, how he had found the bay and built the first cabin there.</p>
<p class="western">“Sounds not like Noldorin craftsmanship”, Maedhros remarked dryly.</p>
<p class="western">“Wood is the only material I can work with”, Fingon protested. “I have no talent with stone. Also, the transporting the material would have been a hassle.”</p>
<p class="western">“You did a good job with the first stone houses for your kin in Mithrim”, Maedhros remarked.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon laughed a little. “I did help with the planning of those, but was glad I did not have to build them myself.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">They entered the hall in which Fingon’s body was being preserved. No other spirit was in the room and the light seemed a bit dimmer than in the hallways before.</p>
<p class="western">The hröa was breathing, which was the only sign of it being alive. Maedhros glided over to it and Fingon followed him. Watching his own cold and paled face was no less distressing than seeing it for the first time. Maedhros hovered over him, tears in his eyes.</p>
<p class="western">“I never wanted to see you like this again”, he sobbed and the fire was flaring up again. This time the flames were almost white, as if they were reflections on the surface of ice or glass.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon got close and engulfed his beloved in his arms. “I’m sorry”, he whispered and stroked Maedhros backside, not minding the flames. They did not hurt him and never would. He had long lived with the fire next to his heart. A picture was transmitted down their bond. Of Fingon lying dead on a pyre, clad in his finest blue and golden robe, the circlet of a king upon his brow, his eyes closed. What was to be seen of his skin was badly burned, even if the morticians had done a good job of letting his seem as if only sleeping. Fingon, who had not watched his own burial in the tapestries saw now what had happened. How Maedhros had said goodbye, how he had been the one to light the pyre. The flames had risen up that day, high up into the sky and the wind had been calm. The picture transferred into a memory, of the fire crackling and the breaking of a heart.</p>
<p class="western">“Shh”, Fingon hushed his beloved. “This is not now. Look how my hröa is breathing. If I wish, I could enter it any moment and rise from the bier and walk out of here.”</p>
<p class="western">“Why don’t you?”</p>
<p class="western">“Because I am not leaving without you and Námo has not shown themselves yet.”</p>
<p class="western">“Why should they?”</p>
<p class="western">“Because as they once pronounced all our doom, he has not made your fate known. And I will take you with me”, Fingon spoke and switched to a short prayer. “Oh Lord Námo, come and show yourself to us who are waiting for your words.”</p>
<p class="western">“Do you think this is enough to get their attention?”, Maedhros asked doubtfully.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">It was enough. Námo came to them, gliding as most of the fёa did in the Halls. They were clothed in much brighter fabrics than the time he had greeted Fingon in the Halls. It suited them, even though they hid their face underneath a mask again. This time it was one of porcelain with golden streaks through it. The expressionless mouth underneath did not allow for a conclusion of their temper in this time. The beauty of the mask distracted Maedhros for a while, he observed it in detail. There was no fear of the Vala in him. In this, he was very much his father’s son, valuing the craft.</p>
<p class="western">“Findekáno, son of Nolofinwё. I see you found your way through my Halls.”</p>
<p class="western">“I did. And I found the one I was searching for.”</p>
<p class="western">“Maedhros, Son of Fёanáro and Nerdanel, born Nelyafinwё Maitimo, later called Russandol”, Námo said unimpressed. “Your fёa has made remarkable progress.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you, Lord Námo.”</p>
<p class="western">“It is your partner’s wish I allow you to enter your hröa again. How do you feel about this?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon swallowed. He had told Maedhros what his intention was, but his beloved had not commented much. If he refused now, they would stay in the Halls longer. It was an oversight, one which could be fatal.</p>
<p class="western">After a moment of deliberation, Maedhros answered. “I trust his and your judgement.”</p>
<p class="western">“I will allow you to try and forge the connection between your hröa and fёa again. But I must warn you, it will be an effort and cost you much energy. Your fёa is not in the optimal condition for the process, but I think you could achieve it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Optimal condition?”</p>
<p class="western">“As I told Findekáno before, it is not truly my decision who gets another chance at life. The fёa knows when it’s time and calls out to me, unconsciously. I merely trust in Eru’s design and help, for it is my power which restores the flesh.”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh”, Maedhros said. “I did not know this.”</p>
<p class="western">“Nobody does. Even Manwё is oblivious to it.”</p>
<p class="western">“And why are you helping me, if you do not think I am ready?”</p>
<p class="western">Námo laid their head to one side. “Because I owe Findekáno a small favour. And your son had some arguments about healing I think have their merits. Now, if you would follow me.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">They followed Námo into an adjacent room where another bier was located. It resembled the first room, only this one was a bit more decorated with carving in the walls which were obviously of dwarven design.</p>
<p class="western">“The children of Aulё love crafting, even in death”, Námo explained as they saw them staring. “Maedhros, if you would please place yourself upon this bed.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon watched as his beloved followed the instructions and the Lord of the Dead began to sing. Their voice was loud and frightening. The words were Valarin of course, the first language which had been spoken in this land, the voice of magic and the world around them. Some words resembled the Quenya language, but nothing Fingon heard made sense to his ears. He wondered why he was allowed to listen and watch at all. Never before had he perceived such magic, such might. Námo was truly among the great of his kin, their power often underestimated.</p>
<p class="western">On the bier, Maedhros form started to flicker, the fire drawing back bit by bit. Then the image solidified and Fingon knew, had he been closer, he would have started to feel a body where the fёa had been. He waited with baited breath on what would come to pass. Námo was working with clever fingers and quick movements. The process was a mystery and he could not even guess which the gestures implied. The work reminded Fingon of the days he had watched his mother weave a cloak for his father. The movements of Námo had the same intensity. Maybe they had picked up the habits of their wife Vairё.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">“It is your time to return to your hröa as well”, Námo said after some time. Behind him, Maedhros was lying on the bier, almost motionless. Only the soft rising of his chest indicated he was alive. Fingon had to turn his eyes away. The image reminded him so much of the months after Thangorodrim.</p>
<p class="western">“Will he be alright?”, Fingon asked.</p>
<p class="western">Námo laid their head towards his right shoulder. “It was not easy”, they said. “His fёa was not fully ready to accept his hröa again. There is a possibility he will have a few problems once out of the Halls.”</p>
<p class="western">“What about his hands?”</p>
<p class="western">Námo sighed. “I was able to restore his right hand to him. It is the one I was talking about it probably making problems. The scar on his left, of the silmaril, is a wound upon his fёa too. I do not know the effects this will have on him.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “Thank you for your help. We will deal with anything coming up in time.”</p>
<p class="western">The Lord of the Dead turned his head towards Fingon’s body. “Now, it is your turn.”</p>
<p class="western">It was time to become whole again. Instantly a tingling in his limbs took hold. It was not exactly pleasant and it pulled Fingon towards his own hröa. Námo smiled. It was an eerie gesture and the ellon had to look away. The presence of the Vala was always a strain on his nerves, even if they were on good terms so far. One day the favours would expire and Fingon dreaded that day.</p>
<p class="western">Again Fingon was confronted with his own sleeping body. It was alive, indicated by breathing, but no other motion revealed this. It seemed like a shell left behind. In a sense it was. The ellon had almost forgotten how it felt to have a hröa. Now the memory came back and he wanted to return to it. There was a longing for real touches, real kisses, as Maedhros had been given leave off the Halls too.</p>
<p class="western">“Place yourself”, the Lord of the Dead commanded and pointed at the hröa lying still.</p>
<p class="western">For a moment Fingon was confused until he understood. He had risen out of his shell, now he had to invert the motion. There was no contact with his hröa he could feel as he placed the manifestation of his fёa on the bier as well. His hands became numb as they settled in the correct position. A shot of panic ripped through him.</p>
<p class="western">“Calm”, Námo whispered. “You are almost fully adjusted.”</p>
<p class="western">The numb feeling spread until Fingon could not move his fёa away again. When he had first regained his hröa, it had been different and he had not felt anything at all. He trusted Námo, they should know what they were doing.</p>
<p class="western">The numb feeling retreated beginning with his face. He was able to move his nostrils and breath on his own again. The relief crawled through his limbs until he could move every muscle again. He kept lying still, unsure when Námo would be finished with his task. He did not want to risk disturbing the Valar.</p>
<p class="western">Then a step sounded out in the hall of stone and Fingon knew it was over. Carefully he opened his eyes. The colours had a different intensity now than before. He prepared to sit up.</p>
<p class="western">“Careful”, Námo cautioned. “You might want to do that slowly.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon followed the instructions. Nausea and hunger gnawed at him and he wondered for how long he had been in the Halls. He was sure Námo would not give an answer, so he did not ask. One thing the ellon had to know.</p>
<p class="western">“Is someone waiting for our return outside your Halls?”</p>
<p class="western">Námo shook his head. “No. I will consent to release you to a place of your choice, as I did for your cousin Findaráto.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon thought about it for a moment and looked across the hall to where his beloved was sleeping on the bier. He wanted to go over and wake him, asking for a direction. It would not do him good and he would only wake in the moment of leaving Mandos, as the tale told it. Outside, Maedhros would be weak, so a long travel was out of the realm of possibility. “The bay where my settlement is”, he decided. There would be Maglor and Finrod and peace for Maedhros to settle into a new life. It was the safest location to go to.</p>
<p class="western">“You wish shall be fulfilled”, Námo announced and reached out to touch Fingon’s forehead. Sleep took the ellon almost immediately who was not allowed to see the door which would lead outside to the lands of Aman.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Light of the Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The light of the sun was blinding Fingon as it was setting deep in the west. He stared into it. After the strange shadowy gloom of the Halls of Mandos, the small discomfort felt like a blessing. In his ears, his blood rushed and he felt his heart beating. Being whole, fёa and hröa combined again, and underneath the sky was a revelation. It felt better than it had leaving the Halls for the first time, but then he had been weak and in much inner turmoil still.</p>
<p class="western">A right hand squeezed his own, only the smallest of pressures, and yet it felt like so much more. Fingon turned towards his beloved companion and embraced him. There was true warmth found there and not the shadow sensation of the flames. This was real.</p>
<p class="western">The sea near them was peaceful and lapping at Fingon’s heels. Maedhros was leaning against him, almost like a dead weight. It took a few moments to register. The few steps they had taken had already exhausted Maedhros and he was beginning to waver. Fingon did not feel stronger, but he kept his beloved from falling over. The last hundreds of metres would be exhausting for him if he had to carry Maedhros all the way. He hoped either Maglor or Finrod would pass their way, but it was only a small chance of meeting them. Fingon had not been informed as to where they were. There was a possibility Finrod had gone and was travelling around the world. Based on his refusal the last time Fingon had seen him, this was not likely either.</p>
<p class="western">“Where are we?”, Maedhros whispered. His voice was weak and he sounded tired. It was no surprise to Fingon, as the words of Námo still echoed in his mind.</p>
<p class="western">“We are at the bay I built my cabin at.”</p>
<p class="western">“This land is beautiful.”</p>
<p class="western">“It is. We only have to cross the dunes and the two cabins will be able to be seen.”</p>
<p class="western">“Let’s go.”</p>
<p class="western">“Hold on to me”, Fingon said gently. “I will help you.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros slung his left arm over Fingon’s shoulders, the right one he left hanging to his side. Together they made their way up the first row of the dunes. Halfway there, Fingon saw footprints in the sand. One of his cousins must have passed along the way only a few hours ago. The steps were filled only with a bit of sand by the wind. Had they been older, they would have been gone.</p>
<p class="western">“I think Finrod and Maglor will be waiting for us”, Fingon whispered to his beloved. In the past few minutes it had become harder to drag his beloved along.</p>
<p class="western">“Both?”</p>
<p class="western">“Most likely, they became close.”</p>
<p class="western">“As they should be”, Maedhros whispered and then he yawned. “I’m tired.”</p>
<p class="western">“It isn’t that far anymore”, Fingon promised.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Despite his promises, by the time the two cabins came into sight, Fingon was almost carrying his beloved. There was faint smoke rising from Maglor and Finrod’s cabin, the other one sat silent. The leaves of the trees in the nearby forest were turning yellow slowly, which told Fingon months must have passed since he entered the Halls to search for his partner. At least. Námo had not given him a hint. Fingon suspected more time than two months had passed. How much he did not dare to estimate.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros passed out a few moments before the door to the inhabited cabin opened and Maglor came running out. His eyes were wide and fixed on Fingon.</p>
<p class="western">“You did it”, he whispered once he got his breathing under control again. “You mad ellon.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon smiled as he desperately clung to Maedhros so that he would not sink to the ground. “Could you help me get him into bed?”</p>
<p class="western">“Of course. I’ll take the legs.”</p>
<p class="western">Together they carried Maedhros to the large bed in Fingon’s cabin. It was actually Fingon’s bed. Thankfully Maglor did not comment on it. In a next step, Maglor went down the steep stairs again and made a fire in the kitchen furnace. The heat would easily seep through the floors and warm the whole cabin, especially to since the bedroom was directly above the kitchen.</p>
<p class="western">Whilst Maglor did this, Fingon remained at Maedhros’ side. He carefully placed the blanket over his beloved and arranged his hair so he would not be woken by pain from it. Finally his partner seemed to be at peace. The sleep was good for him. When Fingon had returned from the Halls, he had slept for two days and he had been glad his parents had come for him. They had transported him to their house in a carriage and he had woken there. How Maedhros would react to waking up at the bay only time would tell.</p>
<p class="western">Steps on the stairs told Fingon Maglor was returning. A knock on the door sounded and the minstrel came into the room. In his hand, he held a cup of tea.</p>
<p class="western">He held it out to Fingon. “That’s for you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you.” It was a herbal tea, perfect for rejuvenating. Fingon felt himself being a bit tired. His muscles ached as if he had not used them in some time.</p>
<p class="western">He finally asked the one important question which was on his mind. “How long was I gone?”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor swallowed. “Fourteen months.”</p>
<p class="western">More than a year. The realization struck Fingon deep in his core. He spent a year in the Halls of Mandos. A year and two months. It was not much, at least by elven standards, but it was not an insignificant amount of time. So much could have happened. The politics in Tirion were always in motion and the personal relationships were changing with it. Fingon had a small hope his mother might have forgiven him and for Finrod to have finally made peace with his father. Before all those questions could spill out of him, he took another sip of his tea. The warmth spread through his insides.</p>
<p class="western">“Where is Finrod?”, he asked, finally settling on the smaller questions.</p>
<p class="western">Maglor grinned. “<span>Already </span>asleep in our bed.”</p>
<p class="western">“Sleepy-head”, Fingon joked.</p>
<p class="western">“He was in the forge all day, he deserves it.”</p>
<p class="western">“I bet”, Fingon replied and yawned. “I will fall asleep too, very soon.”</p>
<p class="western">“There will be food once you wake again”, Maglor promised. “If I can get Finrod to help. I bet he will be ecstatic to hear about your return.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon managed a weak smile. “Go to him. We will be fine for the next few hours. I don’t expect to wake before morning.”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor left again, walking down the narrow steps with light feet. Maedhros was still sleeping, the conversation had not woken him. A sure sign he needed this. During what had later been known as the First Age and even before, he had always been a light sleeper. In Himring, there had also been a knife under his pillow. Now they were both out of danger and alive again in a peaceful land.</p>
<p class="western">For but a moment Fingon considered if it was appropriate to climb underneath the covers and snuggle against Maedhros. He decided on yes. They had made their feelings clear in the Halls and taken their choice together. Once he lay next to his beloved, he closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The evening turned into night turned into morning and it took many hours for Fingon to awake again. He opened his eyes to the sunlight of a new day. The shine was falling in through the small window next to the bed. It was warm under the covers. A weight lay upon Fingon’s legs. Maedhros must have shifted in his sleep so his right leg was thrown over Fingon’s and his face was leaning against his shoulder. Careful, as to not disturb him, Fingon turned and just enjoyed the moment for a while. His beloved was at peace. He felt for the connection of their fёa and was sad to find it weak. In the Halls it had been stronger because there had been no hröa to take into consideration. Only a marriage bond could breath this distance, but they had never had the time nor the allowance to do so. Maybe on fine day… Fingon let himself dream for a few minutes.</p>
<p class="western">Unfortunately, the needs of his hröa made themselves known too soon. He needed to relief himself desperately. He manoeuvred out of band and hoped Maedhros would not wake until he returned. He did not wish his beloved to experience any disorientation because of waking up in an unfamiliar environment.</p>
<p class="western">His trip to the outside toilet took longer than planned. On the way back, he also changed into some loose trousers and a comfortable blue tunic. His hair was in disarray, so he also grabbed a brush and then returned to Maedhros’ side. Thankfully his beloved was still asleep and breathing deeply. In Fingon’s absence he had curled on himself. As soon as he sat down again, Maedhros curled around him and he smiled.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon let himself sink down at his beloved’s side again and closed his eyes. His belly was rumbling, but he ignored it. There would be time for him to feed himself later. For now, he basked in the presence of Maedhros. The many years without him had not been easy. Now the longing was calming down, but it had turned into the desire to be close. Fingon did not resist it. Part of his reasoning was purely selfish of course. On the other hand, someone needed to be there when Maedhros woke and Fingon would not have it being someone not him.</p>
<p class="western">It took not long for Fingon to become sleepy again and he laid himself down at Maedhros side. His eyes drifted to the small table next to his bed where the box with the golden ribbon stood. The lid was now firmly closed, to preserve the precious strip of fabric inside. A small layer of dust had gathered on the lid. Fingon propped himself up on his left elbow and leaned forward to blow it away. It left in a small cloud and the lid was shining again. Carefully he opened the box with his right hand and looked at the curled ribbon. He would return it to Maedhros as soon as possible. All the time he had carried it, it belonged to him. There was not much more Fingon could give him as a memento of their past. Everything else had been destroyed, either by force or time. He closed the box again and laid down. Next to him Maedhros shifted a bit and sighed in his sleep. The deep lines around his face were retreating, a sign he was doing better.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">It was Maglor who Fingon awoke to in the later hours of the day. His cousin was sitting on a small stool in the corner of the room. He was reading a book, turning the pages quietly. It was a thick one, bound in red leather. The minstrel seemed to be completely engrossed in it, a slight frown on his brow. A good smell drifted into Fingon’s nose and he turned his eyes away from his dark haired cousin. There was a plate on the table next to him, laden with some freshly plucked berries from the garden and bread with some cheese. Already the smell was delicious and Fingon’s belly rumbled. Loudly. Maglor looked up from his reading and smiled.</p>
<p class="western">“That’s for you, dig in”, he whispered and gestured at the plate.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon smiled and nodded gratefully. Then he sat up again and took his food.</p>
<p class="western">It occurred to him a bit belatedly that Maglor’s presence was a bit unusual. “Why are you here?”</p>
<p class="western">“I brought you food. Also, Finrod wanted to have some eyes on you, in case Maedhros would be awake already.”</p>
<p class="western">“Fine. But I think he will awake tomorrow morning.” It was a strange intuition, but somehow it seemed right. Fingon hoped his estimation would be. “What are you reading?”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh, just a book from the library of Tirion, about the ending of the Third Age. Elrond insisted I read it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Is it good?”</p>
<p class="western">“It’s certainly a very interesting story, maybe you could read it, too.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon yawned. “One day”, he replied and laid down again. The warmth was relaxing him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Awakening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“Hmm, Fingon?”, Maedhros murmured and his eyes fluttered. His face scrunched up a bit.</p><p class="western">“I am here”, Fingon replied softly.</p><p class="western">“Where are we?”</p><p class="western">“In my cabin, my bed to be exact.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros yawned. “A dream then?”</p><p class="western">At least it was a question. “No. We are out of the Halls, Námo let you go.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros opened his eyes and looked around. He still had a dreamy expression, but he sat up. He used his right arm to lift himself up. As soon as he was upright, he stared at his hand. His right hand. He looked at it as if it was a miracle. It must seem to him like it. He had lost it Ages ago. Carefully he turned the arm in the morning light, looking at it from different angles. He then took his left and poked it.</p><p class="western">His face soured as he saw the mark of the silmaril burnt into his skin.</p><p class="western">Fingon crawled over the bed, to Maedhros, sitting down next to him. He extended his arm in an offer of companionship and love. His beloved leaned into him and let his hands fall down. They twitched a bit before they stilled. The movement did not seem to register with Maedhros. Fingon swallowed his comments and anxious questions. Adjusting to having a hröa again was a process. It took time. He had had some problems himself, as headaches had plagued him for the first weeks.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">A bit later, he could not stop himself from asking. “How are you feeling?” Fingon needed to know. He knew what Námo had proclaimed. Maedhros re-embodyment had not been easy even for the Valar and there were certain repercussions.</p><p class="western">Maedhros lifted his head and just stared for a while. It took him a few moments to answer. “Strange.”</p><p class="western">“Can you explain?”</p><p class="western">“I never expected to leave the Halls, never really expected to get there. Now I am happy to be free of this place, but I had strange dreams, which reminded me of what is waiting here for me.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. Happiness and anxiety had been the main feeling at his leaving of the Halls, too. He did not pressure his beloved into speaking about these. “And your hands?”</p><p class="western">Maedhros sighed. “The right one is a bit numb and the muscles don’t really respond to my commands. The left.. It is fine, stiff because of the scar tissue I think. Otherwise, I am just hungry.”</p><p class="western">“Then you can be glad your brother brought us some bread already.”</p><p class="western">“Maglor?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. I told you he’s living with me, Finrod does too.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “My memories of the Halls are a bit hazy. I am glad he found his way over the sea.”</p><p class="western">“As am I. And everyone else.” Fingon did not mention Elrond and Gil-Galad. This was a talk for later. Now, his first priority was to get some food into his beloved. He grabbed the plate with the bread and cheese and gave it to Maedhros. He smiled gratefully and took a piece of bread. He bit into it and sighed. It was a soft sound, almost inaudible. He then continued to devour the food. He gave off the impression of a starving person. Fingon would have smiled, had the mental image not stirred unwanted memories. He had seen too many malnourished elves during his time. Thankfully, Maedhros looked much healthier now, just a bit hungry. After the bread was eaten, he looked at Fingon again. Wordlessly, he held out the bowl with berries, which Maglor had prepared as well. He recognized them, as he had planted the first bush himself, after he had settled here. The Eldar had discovered them in Beleriand and somehow the seeds had been brought to these shores. Maedhros seemed to remember as well and threw a questioning glance at Fingon. He just shrugged, then grinned as his beloved took a handful.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“What happened while I was dead?”, Maedhros asked. “It must have been millennia.”</p><p class="western">“Yes. So much. Where do you want me to begin?”</p><p class="western">“The twins?”</p><p class="western">“Which ones? There are three I can count on my hand you could be asking about?”, Fingon teased.</p><p class="western">“Elrond and Elros. Maglor and I, we stole and kept them for too long. Have you heard of them?”</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled. “Yes, of course. They were both great leaders in their own right.”</p><p class="western">“Were…”, Maedhros turned towards the window. “So they died?”</p><p class="western">“They were given a choice, the fate of men or the fate of elves. Elros became the first and greatest king of men. He did die. Elrond chose differently, my love. He is on these shores and a good friend, I might add.”</p><p class="western">The revelation left Maedhros speechless. He stared at Fingon, as if he had spoken in a language unknown. Two tears left his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks.</p><p class="western">“Come here”, Fingon whispered and opened his arms again. Maedhros took the offered comfort and leaned in. He closed his eyes for a moment.</p><p class="western">“They were so bright”, he recounted. “All the children of this family. Only one survived my deeds.”</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled sadly. “Elros won’t be coming back until the world is remade, yes. But Elrond would like to meet you.”</p><p class="western">“Elrond should stay away from me. I bring his family no luck.”</p><p class="western">“That’s harsh. Elros made his choice and that without your influence.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros wiped away the tears. “He was always such a clever child, but harsh and bound on becoming a warrior. I taught him swordplay. Elrond mostly turned to Maglor for education. Sometimes I was glad for it, for he had the eyes of his uncles.”</p><p class="western">“Truly? I heard the Princes of Doriath had grey eyes, but I never saw them myself, so I could not judge their likeness to Elrond.” Just so, Fingon let some valuable information slip. He knew what his cousins’ followers had done, leaving the children of Dior and Nimloth in the forest, to freeze or be eaten. They had died. And they had been returned long before Fingon had been.</p><p class="western">Maedhros looked up, confused. “Princes of Doriath is not a term I have ever heard Elrond or Elros be called. That honour always belonged to Elwing’s brothers.”</p><p class="western">“As it does today.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros laid his head to one side and turned towards Fingon. His gaze was critical. “Elured and Elurin are alive?”</p><p class="western">“They are. They are, with their parents, the four leaders of the people of Doriath reborn in Valinor. Let’s just say they are not that fond of any Noldor elves. Trading with them has, as always, been a nightmare. Well, easier than with their ancestors at least.”</p><p class="western">“I can’t believe they are alive.”</p><p class="western">“They are. Grown now. According to uncle, they were young in body and old of mind when Námo let them go.”</p><p class="western">“They died young then”, Maedhros whispered. “And it was my fault.”</p><p class="western">“If it was somebody’s fault, it was Celegorm and his followers’. Not yours.”</p><p class="western">“I was their commander.”</p><p class="western">Fingon made a face of contempt. “As if they had listened to you.”</p><p class="western">“And still. I failed at saving the twins.”</p><p class="western">“I doubt they know you tried saving them. It is not a story known by many. I think Elrond knows, but he never mentioned his uncles to me. He lives at Tol Eresseä with others from Middle-Earth.”</p><p class="western">“And his parents?”</p><p class="western">“Last I spoke with him, he was not on the best terms with Elwing and Earendil.”</p><p class="western">For some reason the revelation did not do great for Maedhros. He slumped a bit down.</p><p class="western">“Shall I tell you more of Elrond?”, Fingon asked. “I am sure there are things he would like to tell you himself, but he won’t mind if I talk a bit.”</p><p class="western">“He has taken the long way?”</p><p class="western">“He has never died. His way was among the hardest to walk, through Two Ages of elves and men.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “I am sure he did great things. He seemed destined to be a haven and leader for our people.”</p><p class="western">“He was. His realm was one of the three which lasted the longest. And before he fought valiantly against Sauron, together with Gil-Galad.”</p><p class="western">“Gil-Galad, you son… What became of him?”</p><p class="western">“He led our people until the end of the Second Age, through thousands of years. He died in the battle against Sauron.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros was silent for a while. “He has been reborn?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, he was. He told me, his stay in the Halls was not a long one. He was one of the supporters of my quest to get you released.”</p><p class="western">“How is he?”</p><p class="western">“He grew into one of the finest and wisest ellyn I know. He did well, during his time as king, according to the annals. He doesn’t talk much about his role as High King.”</p><p class="western">“Did he have children?”</p><p class="western">“No… Also, I might know why…”</p><p class="western">“And who was his heir?”</p><p class="western">“He was the last High King. Both Elrond and Galadriel refused the crown. He was the Lord of Imladris, a city in a hidden valley he reigned, and Artanis had her own realm, together with her husband.”</p><p class="western">“She got what she wanted”, Maedhros mused.</p><p class="western">“She sailed at the end of the Third Age, and dwells now in Valinor, in a settlement called Eryn Glorlass.”</p><p class="western">“The Wood of the Golden Leaves?”, Maedhros translated. “Strange name…”</p><p class="western">“It’s in memory of the realm Celeborn and she built in Middle-Earth”, Fingon explained. “It is beautiful and I am sure Galadriel is happy here. I have not seen her, since she returned.”</p><p class="western">“What about Elrond?”</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled. He knew Maedhros had much interest in hearing about his son. “He was reunited with his wife on these shores.”</p><p class="western">“He married?”</p><p class="western">“Yes. Celebrían, Galadriel’s daughter. She had to sail before him. When you meet her, you will understand”, Fingon told him. “They had three children, a set of twins and a daughter.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros grinned, but it faded soon. “They must have had the choice, too.”</p><p class="western">“The twins sailed, his daughter fell in love with the last heir of Elros’ line. She chose Lúthien’s fate.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros leant back. “I wish fate had been kinder to him.”</p><p class="western">“He did well, for all he faced.” Fingon laid himself down next to his beloved. Maedhros turned towards him and raised his right arm. He wrapped it around Fingon’s waist and pulled. He wasn’t as strong as he had been in Beleriand, but thankfully he did not seem to suffer any pain from it.</p><p class="western">“Thank you for coming”, Maedhros whispered.</p><p class="western">“Sorry for letting you wait”, Fingon replied.</p><p class="western">“Don’t be. You had your reasons.”</p><p class="western">“I did.”</p><p class="western">“You know, we will have to talk about them one day?”, Maedhros asked, apprehensive.</p><p class="western">“Of course, but not today”, Fingon answered. There would be a time to talk about what had happened in Beleriand after his death. This was not the hour to do so. This was the time for reunion and rest. He pressed closer and offered his lips, waiting.</p><p class="western">Maedhros took the offer and they kissed. It felt amazing, to have this, out of the Halls. It was different, now that they both had their hröa back. The kiss was chaste at first and Fingon closed his eyes. He let his own left hand wander and found Maedhros side easily. He applied a bit of pressure, finally being able to feel the touch and heat on his skin. It was a balm for his fёa, which had been alone for many years. He opened his mouth a bit, an invitation. To his surprise, Maedhros immediately took the initiative and deepened the kiss. His tongue flicked out and touched Fingon’s lips. It wasn’t more than a wet nudge, but the feeling was there. He smiled into it and returned the gesture.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They fell asleep cuddling, still exhausted from leaving the Halls of Mandos and the talk they just had. They were happy to have each other. A new day would come soon enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Morning of a New Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Again, Fingon awoke earlier than Maedhros. His belly told him he was hungry. He let his gaze travel to the small table. His hopes were destroyed, as there was no food there. It told him Maglor had not visited yet. Or he had had better things to do. Because his belly was grumbling loudly, he crawled out of bed and went down the stairs. He was still a bit wobbly on his legs, but he made it without stumbling to the kitchen. A fire was burning there, so one of the other two ellyn living at the bay must have kept it fed. It was warm in the kitchen, almost too warm for comfort. The sun outside was already rising higher, and with it the temperatures. It was summer after all. Because of the sea being near, the weather did not become uncomfortable hot, but humid. At night, the temperatures still fell, so keeping a fire was necessary.</p><p class="western">Fingon put the kettle on the fire first, before he turned towards the cabinets. He was pleased to note Finrod and Maglor had done a good job at keeping them filled. There were several jars filled with jam and a fresh bread. Fingon took a knife and cut two slices off it. One for himself, the other one he would prepare for Maedhros.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He was so deep into his own thoughts that he did not hear the door opening behind him. Preparing the tea had taken his full concentration, as Maedhros preferred a certain combination of leaves. Well, had preferred this concoction in Beleriand. Fingon had no idea if death might have changed this. He would find out soon enough.</p><p class="western">“Oh! You’re awake”, a cheerful voice said.</p><p class="western">Fingon turned around and came face to face with Finrod. The blonde ellon seemed to be as happy as his voice implied. It was a good sight to see, even if Fingon himself was a bit too tired to deal with much excitement right now.</p><p class="western">“I am”, he grumbled in reply.</p><p class="western">“You slept long.”</p><p class="western">“I know”, Fingon mumbled. “But I was in a state between life and death for a few months.”</p><p class="western">“Fair. I’m glad you’re back.”</p><p class="western">“I’m happy I’m back, too.”</p><p class="western">“Funny”, Finrod commented, calming down again. “What do you remember of the halls?”</p><p class="western">“Almost everything. Desolate place and I do not want to go there again.”</p><p class="western">Finrod breathed in deeply. “Same, even if I do not remember much myself. How is Maedhros? Maglor was quiet about him.”</p><p class="western">“He’s fine. Exhausted. His regaining of a body was not an easy one.”</p><p class="western">“Has he woken up?”</p><p class="western">“Yesterday, we were both awake for a while. We talked much, which made us tired again.”</p><p class="western">“Oh. What did you talk about?”</p><p class="western">Finrod was terribly nosy. “About life, about current politics and our family”, Fingon answered. He felt a bit bad, because he was so short tempered this morning. At least the tea and the bread was ready now. He poured the drink into the cups. Immediately the air started to smell of the tea. From a jar, he scraped some honey and let it dissolve in the hot liquid. The sweetness would do them good.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maedhros was not awake when Fingon entered the room. He was balancing the two cups and the plate with the slices of bread on a tablet. Opening the door had been a challenge. He tried to close it gently with his right foot, but instead it fell shut with a bang. Maedhros shuddered in his sleep and turned around in the bed. Fingon breathed in deeply, fearing he had disturbed his beloved a great deal. In the past, loud sounds had often woken bad memories.</p><p class="western">Carefully, Fingon set down the tablet on the small table and sat down next to his partner. He extended his hand and placed it on Maedhros’ left shoulder. The other he avoided out of instinct. The memories of times gone by were still in his mind. Their impact had lessened over the centuries, but he would never forget.</p><p class="western">Maedhros twitched a bit in his sleep. Fingon watched him and was glad to see no sign of distress. Into his other hand, he took his tea and took a sip. It had cooled down enough for him to drink it. He had gotten the exact right amount of honey for his taste and enough leaves so it wasn’t just hot water.</p><p class="western">A grumble drew him away from his thoughts of the past and he let his eyes wander. Maedhros was slowly waking up. The previous movements had already hinted at the end of his sleep. Now he would open his eyes any moment.</p><p class="western">As predicted, Maedhros’ lids fluttered and his nose scrunched up a bit. Fingon smiled at the cute image. No scars were left in his beloved’s face. He did not think him more beautiful for it, but he was glad the movement of his muscles wasn’t hindered anymore.</p><p class="western">“Good morning beloved”, Fingon whispered and leant in. His hand was still on Maedhros’ left shoulder and he squeezed gently.</p><p class="western">It took a few moments for his parter to realize where he was. He looked around and then fixed his glance on Fingon. A small smile spread on his lips.</p><p class="western">“Good morning”, Maedhros replied, now a bit more awake. He reached out with his left hand and let it wander through Fingon’s hair. It wasn’t braided, so his fingers slipped through the strands with ease.</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled at him a bit more. Then he whispered, “How are you feeling?”</p><p class="western">Maedhros contemplated his answer for a few moments. “Rested”, he then said. “And better than I was. A bit thirsty.” He eyed the tea.</p><p class="western">Fingon wanted to hit himself. “Oh, sorry, there’s tea for you too.” He turned aside and grabbed the cup from the bedside table. He presented it to his beloved, holding it steady with both hands.</p><p class="western">Maedhros got up and leaned against the headboard. He raised his hands, they were both shaking. Fingon could see it did cost him much to hold them still. He did not ask for help, so no offer was made. Fingon kept watch so his beloved would not spill the hot liquid onto himself and cause burns on his new skin. He smiled a bit as Maedhros grimaced at the cup and his hands, but he managed to take a sip.</p><p class="western">The red-haired ellon purred as he swallowed. “This is perfect. You even thought about the honey.”</p><p class="western">“Of course I did”, Fingon replied and leant in to steal a quick kiss. “I remember well how you used to take your tea.”</p><p class="western">“The leaves are better than those we had in Himring.”</p><p class="western">“Indeed. You will have to thank Maglor and Finrod for them. They cultivated them in our garden here. Otherwise we would have to import them from Tirion.”</p><p class="western">“I will remember to do so.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros managed to drink the tea without help. Twice he almost dropped the cup, but he saved it both times. He never asked for help. Fingon had to bit his own tongue, to keep himself from offering. His beloved had not reacted to this positive in the past. Fingon had not known if it had been because of pride or independency. He suspected the latter.</p><p class="western">“Can we go see Maglor today?”, Maedhros asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.</p><p class="western">Fingon smiled. “Of course. He should be somewhere down there, together with Finrod. They seem to have gotten really close over the past year.”</p><p class="western">“How do they both reside here with you?”</p><p class="western">“Oh, both just decided on it without asking me.”</p><p class="western">“What drew you to this bay, all alone?” Maedhros looked out of the window, out to where the sea was.</p><p class="western">“I needed to get away from Tirion and the politics. I was getting tired of it. Arafinwё had me as some sort of adviser, apparently because they needed someone who was a known face of the Noldor to help the integration of my people.”</p><p class="western">“You certainly were suited for this”, Maedhros remarked. “You were a clever diplomat. Without you, our union would not have been formed.”</p><p class="western">“Ah, it still did us no good.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros swallowed dryly. “Sorry for bringing it up.”</p><p class="western">“Don’t worry, I can handle it. Let’s go and see where your brother is, shall we?”</p><p class="western">“Let’s go”, Maedhros agreed.</p><p class="western">Fingon watched as his beloved stood up. He was a bit unsure on his legs, but he managed to stand. After a few steps, he seemed to be more sure in his body again.</p><p class="western">Together, they get down the stairs. It takes them a while, as Maedhros is unsteady on his feet. He is swaying, at least in the beginning. He’s finding his balance more easy with every step. The stairs are narrow, so Fingon has to find a way to help him. In the end, he goes in front of his beloved, so he can use his shoulders to hold on. He would have offered to carry him, but Maedhros had made clear he wanted to do this alone.</p><p class="western">Down, in the hallway, they took a short break. Maedhros held onto the wall for a moment, until he breathed evenly again. Then he looked into the kitchen, nodding approvingly. Fingon smiled. They did not spent much time in the kitchen, as Maedhros was on a mission. He made for the door.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maedhros stepped out of the cabin and took in the scenery for a moment. Fingon followed his gaze over the surrounding dunes, covered with long grass and bushes of sea-buckthorn. As it was the end of summer, the plants already carried their berries. They were of an orange colour and easy to spot from where they were standing. The berries Fingon had first seen in use by the Teleri, long after his rebirth. Their ambassadors to Tirion had brought syrup made from them as a present one time. The taste was a bit sour, but Fingon had enjoyed it and had read up on it. He had been overjoyed to find them in the dunes of the bay. The other plant growing on the sand were rosehips. Those the elves left to the animals. The birds liked them very much.</p><p class="western">Next, Maedhros turned towards the second cabin and the small forge at its side. Fingon had seen the building last a year ago, after it had been finished. Finrod and Maglor had moved in. Much had changed in the time between. The doorstep had been decorated with carvings. Over the door, all three of their emblems were shining down on them. One of the inhabitants had even painted them. Fingon smiled as he regarded his own emblem. Even if he wasn’t living in that cabin, his cousins had thought of him in their decorations. From the forge, smoke was rising. It shared a wall with the second cabin, sharing the heat also. It would not do to waste the warmth radiating from the fire. There was no sound of metal on metal, so it was likely the forge would be empty.</p><p class="western">“You have found a beautiful place”, Maedhros praised. “It’s so peaceful.”</p><p class="western">“Thank you”, Fingon replied and leant against his beloved.</p><p class="western">“I think I can even hear the sea from here.”</p><p class="western">“You can. It’s not far, if you remember our walk from the shore to the cabin.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros. “I can’t remember much but the sea licking at our feet and the drops of water on my skin.”</p><p class="western">“Yeah, you were really out of it”, Fingon replied with a grin. “I will show you the shore soon, promise.”</p><p class="western">Again, Maedhros’ eyes shifted towards the sea, to where they had come from, where Námo had set them free. Their tracks had long since been covered by the wind and sand. Now, only a single pair of feet had left their marks on the way over the dunes. One of the other two must be somewhere out there, walking and wandering. Fingon hoped it wasn’t Maglor. He needed the minstrel to be here, for Maedhros’ sake. The two brothers needed to see each other again, talk with another.</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Revelation of a Relationship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“Maedhros?”, a voice came from behind. It held the tone of an ellon who’s breath had been taken away by surprise. Fingon recognized him to be Maglor. He turned around and there he stood, the minstrel with eyes wide open.</p><p class="western">Next to him, his beloved was standing still, just staring at his brother. It had been millennia since Maedhros had seen his most loyal sibling, as he had not woken when Maglor had watched over him.</p><p class="western">“Maglor”, he breathed, almost inaudible.</p><p class="western">The two brother stood face to face, a few metres separating them. Fingon feared for a moment they would keep standing, but it was Maglor who took the first step. He almost flung himself in Maedhros’ arms. There were tears streaking down his face. He buried it into his brother’s neck. Fingon took a step to the side, as to not interfere. The embrace the two brothers shared was incredibly close. Maglor held on with all his might. Maedhros had his arms slung around his sibling’s back, rubbing it reassuringly. Fingon grinned at the image in front of him. He remembered his own reunion with Aredhel had been similar.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Maedhros”, Maglor whispered again and hiccuped. His voice was shaken by sobs, his face streaked with tears. His hair was bound in intricate braids, obviously the work of Finrod. Atop the main braid, there was a golden ornament of a flower with a green gemstone in the middle of it. It was beautiful and served as a contrast to his raven strands. Now, Maedhros let his hands wander through it, caressing it. It was a familiar picture. Fingon had the brothers seen share such gestures of comfort before, in Himring, after the Gap had fallen. He had only been there once, but it had told him enough about the closeness between the two.</p><p class="western">“Fingon, come here”, Maglor commanded, now hoarse. He opened the embrace up and reached out with his arm for him. There was nothing else to do than to accept the invitation. Fingon stepped forward, into the embrace. He felt Maedhros on his right, putting his arm around his waist. He turned towards him and placed a kiss on his cheek. Maglor laughed a bit under his tears. He cuddled closer to them both.</p><p class="western">Minutes passed by until the minstrel calmed down again. Carefully, they loosened the embrace and stepped back. Fingon kept close to his beloved.</p><p class="western">They all looked at each other, until it became awkward. Maedhros and Maglor seemed to struggle to find a topic to finally start a conversation with. Fingon decided for them, as he asked the minstrel to show him the second cabin, the place where he was living. His own beloved jumped at the chance and almost begged his brother to show him around. Maglor ducked his head in, his face flushing a bit. It was a strange reaction, but Fingon chose not to comment on it.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maglor led them to the cabin. Over the past year, the once fresh wood used for the construction had become tinged by the elements. It had dried where the sun had shone on it, and grown a bit of moss where the rain had hit it the most. Fingon knew they would have to get some protective paint from Tirion in during the season of the heat. He cabin would last longer with it.</p><p class="western">Maedhros appreciated the carvings above the door with big eyes. He was tall enough to touch them and he let his shaking fingers wander over the crest of Fёanor. It had been painted already, probably by Finrod. A look of sorrow crossed Maedhros’ face. Fingon placed his fingers into his other hand and pulled him inside, through the door. He hoped the crest had not woken bad memories. There was no telling. He glanced at Maedhros and saw that he was smiling again, taking in his surroundings now.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Maglor and Finrod had managed a lot. The inside of the second cabin did not resemble much the memory Fingon had of it. It had become much more comfortable. The walls were decorated with white tapestries. During the winter, they would keep the rooms warm. Now, in early summer, the nights could still get cold, so the tapestries were a good choice. They looked a bit solemn, so without colour. Maybe one day they would get embroidered by one of them. Fingon did not possess such a skill. The one who came to mind was Caranthir, but he had made his choice. Dread crept up in Fingon. He would have to tell Nerdanel, probably, and she would not take it well. He knew it. She missed all of her sons terribly. Now one had made the decision to never return to life, taking Miriel’s fate. The other two, Celegorm and Curufin, their paths weren’t set yet. Everything could happen to them, based on their choices. For the family, Fingon hoped they would come back to the realm of the living. There were chances for Celegorm, as his reason for staying was his fear of Oromё, his old master. In this case, Fingon trusted Caranthir’s judgement. Curufin was staying with Fёanor, according to the same source. There was a high chance he would stay with him, never going to face Celebrimbor again. It was sad to see the house of Finwё still so broken. Fingon knew he could not fix it. The only thing he could do was to be there, for Maedhros and his other two cousins living with him.</p><p class="western">“You did a lot”, Fingon praised the interior decoration.</p><p class="western">“You were gone for a year”, Maglor said and shrugged. “Things change.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Will you show me your room?”, Maedhros asked.</p><p class="western">Again, Maglor flushed red. It was a good look on him. Fingon remembered well how frail he had been when he had come to the bay. He had filled out a bit, the millennia of exile finally leaving his features. His hands did not seem to bother him much. Either they had gotten better or he had learned to work around the restrictions. Maedhros had not commented on the scars so far. The minstrel nodded and pointed towards the narrow stairs. He must have chosen one of the upper rooms, just as Fingon had done in the other cabin. Because of the roof, there was not much place to stand upright, but it was cosy there.</p><p class="western">Maedhros required some assistance on the stairs, and Fingon was happy to help him. Maglor went in front and led them to his chosen room. He pushed the door open.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The first thing Fingon saw, was Finrod’s favourite robe, lying across Maglor’s bed. It was crumbled, as if thrown there without care. It spoke of trust. Fingon was happy for a moment, until he had to narrow his eyes. The bed was a bed for two, he realized.</p><p class="western">“Malgor?”, he asked and raised his eyebrows.</p><p class="western">The minstrel gazed at the floor. The tips of his ears began to shimmer a faint red. Maedhros caught on to the whole situation, too.</p><p class="western">“Is this a new development?”, he asked, raising his eyebrows and turning to Fingon. As he found the same confusion there, he relaxed. This was news to them both.</p><p class="western">“Ah, yes”, Maglor said and sighed. “For you, it is new.” Again, he blushed. “For me, it was half a year ago.”</p><p class="western">“You and Finrod are together?”, Fingon asked. His voice sounded dumb to his own ears. For a while, he had suspected there had once been more between those two. As they had come to the bay, he had dismissed the idea, as they seemed good friends. In truth, he should not have been so surprised now as he felt.</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “Yes. It just … happened.” For once, the minstrel wasn’t eloquent.</p><p class="western">“Congratulations”, Maedhros whispered and opened his arms again for a hug. His brother leant in, thankfully. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. Fingon hoped these were not because of fear. He and Maedhros would never hate their family for their choice of a partner.</p><p class="western">Once Maglor had calmed down a bit, he and Maedhros sat down on the side of the bed. There was not much more space beside them, so Fingon took the lonely chair. It bore the distinct markings of Noldorin craft, probably a gift given by one of the visitors. The artist’s mark on the seat spoke of it being made in Tirion, by one of the more popular woodcarvers there.</p><p class="western">“How did your relationship come to be?”, Maedhros asked, his hands carefully placed in his lap. Fingon saw they were shaking.</p><p class="western">Maglor smiled. “It wasn’t a good day, you know. I did not feel well and it was raining. Finrod came to me and sang for me. Somehow our fёa touched because of his craft, and we understood each other’s feelings. So we stopped dancing around each other.”</p><p class="western">“I am glad you found each other”, Maedhros replied to this story. “Tell me, where is Finrod now?”</p><p class="western">The minstrel ducked his head in. “He anticipated you waking and chose to take a walk along the shore.”</p><p class="western">“He feared I would react badly?”</p><p class="western">Maglor shook his head. “Of course not.”</p><p class="western">It was a lie, Fingon could sense it. He was sure Maedhros did, too. He was not sure of the extend of Finrod’s fears, but he would not ask further. It was clear Maglor did not want to talk about this any more. Maedhros had no such sensibilities in this matter</p><p class="western">“He did”, he said. “And I can’t blame him.”</p><p class="western">Maglor grimaced. “He knows you were once very protective of me, and had no idea how well you took your coming to life again. That’s why he wanted to give you space.”</p><p class="western">“Oh. I understand”, Maedhros said. Then he was silent for a few seconds. “Are you happy?”, he then asked.</p><p class="western">“I am”, the minstrel answered. “Life here is good.” He looked at Fingon. “I am grateful for the hospitality I received from our cousin. And now you are back, which makes me happy.”</p><p class="western">“I am glad I am back, too.”</p><p class="western">Maglor smiled and nodded. Somehow, his eyes fell upon Maedhros hands next. Fingon thought for a moment to distract him, but it was too late. A sharp intake of breath signalled he had seen.</p><p class="western">“What is with your hands, brother?”</p><p class="western">“There are marks not even Námo can heal. A burn from a silmaril is one of them.”</p><p class="western">“Oh”, Maglor breathed. He proceeded to raise his own hands and placed them in Maedhros’. With shaking hands, the red-haired one let his fingers wander over the scars of the minstrel. The shape of their father’s creation was still very much visible. They held hands like this for a while, and Fingon did not dare to disturb them. He felt this time of bonding was important.</p><p class="western">“It burnt you so deep”, Maedhros whispered.</p><p class="western">“It did, but Fingon’s balm helped me just as it did for you.”</p><p class="western">“I did not invent it”, Fingon interrupted. “The praise goes to the Sindar and Avari people, I only learned from them.”</p><p class="western">“You learned well”, Maedhros insisted.</p><p class="western">“Only for you”, Fingon replied cheekily. Then he grew silent again and watched as Maglor stroked the mark on Maedhros’ left hand.</p><p class="western">“It got you, too”, he said as he examined the mark the silmaril had left.</p><p class="western">
  <span>Maedhros nodded. “Yes. The mark remains, but thanks to Námo I do not hurt </span>
  <span>because of it</span>
  <span>. Only my movement is hindered. With both hands apparently.”</span>
</p><p class="western">“With the right, too?”</p><p class="western">“I lost it a long time ago, so according to their words, my fёa will need to adjust to my hröa again. Something like that.”</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded. “I am glad Námo let you return to me, to us.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">As they grew hungry, they left Maglor and Finrod’s room. It was no place where one could find food after all. The kitchen was in Fingon’s cabin, so they went down the stairs again. Fingon helped his beloved the same way as he had done before, even if Maedhros was now much more sure on his feet.</p><p class="western">They stepped out of the cabin into the fresh air again. The sun was now peeking out of some cracks in the clouds. Thus, the place was tinged in a beautiful light. Fingon looked up, to where the clouds were floating over them and sent a quick thanks to Arien, for carrying out her duty.</p><p class="western">The sand under their feet had already warmed up a bit, and the wind did not carry the warmth away, for it was weak now.</p><p class="western">The food was an unanswered question to Fingon. He had come back to the bay only a few days ago, he had not checked the stocks yet. Hence he turned to Maglor and asked.</p><p class="western">“Oh, I am sure there is a stew on the oven”, he answered. “Finrod caught a rabbit in the woods yesterday, so there is meat too.”</p><p class="western">“Sounds like a promise”, Fingon chuckled. He was still holding Maedhros’ hand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There might be art for the next chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. old hurts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">There was indeed a stew on the oven in the kitchen. There was no fire underneath it, Fingon took the initiative and got the wood from the stack at the wall. Behind him, he heard Maglor and Maedhros start up their conversation again, but this time in a subdued voice. Fingon did try to not listen in and concentrated on starting a fire. His belly was grumbling, but his mind seemed to want to listen to his beloved. He heard the names of Nerdanel and the twins, and assumed Maglor was telling Maedhros about them. Fingon would also be very interested in that, as he had not been updated on their lives yet. Nerdanel had been a great help when he had gone for her eldest son, so he needed to thank her. He needed to thank everyone who had gone on the quest with them.</p>
<p class="western">Finally. The sparks lit the fire. Fingon grabbed a fan and used it. The flames grew higher and the fire got warmer. Soon, their food would get warm. It would take a while though.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon was still standing at the stove, when steps outside announced the arrival of the one still missing. He listened to the sound of the door opening.</p>
<p class="western">Finrod sat down, and it occurred to Fingon that his small kitchen now housed all the eldest children of Finwё’s sons. His blonde cousin almost snuggled up to Maglor, so close he sat. He did not look at Maedhros directly. He tried to avoid eye contact.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros was having none of it. He stood up. For a moment, Fingon feared he would try to intimidate Finrod, but then the mood shifted. The blonde looked up, finally.</p>
<p class="western">Their reunion was a silent one. They had been kings, each in their own right, in bad times. They had tried to stand on the same side, but their different motivations made communication and diplomacy difficult. Often enough, messages had been sent through Fingon, who as High Prince, and later as High King, had to make sure his lords did not get frustrated with each other. It had been a strenuous task. Fingon had had a desire to see the oath of his Fёanorion cousins fulfilled, for it would have freed his beloved. On the other hand, he had known the task was impossible, as long as Melkor was in Angband and the other Valar had forsaken them.</p>
<p class="western">“It is good to see you back”, Finrod said.</p>
<p class="western">“And you, too”, Maedhros replied.</p>
<p class="western">There followed silence for half a minute. They stared at each other again, unsure how to continue. Fingon cringed internally. “Hungry?”, he asked his blonde cousin.</p>
<p class="western">“Very. I did some firewood today.”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh, thank you”, Fingon said. “I think, I need to start taking part in the upkeep of our home again.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod shrugged. “We’re well stocked right now, and the plants are growing well. You and Maedhros can take all time you need.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you”, Maedhros said. “I appreciate it.” He looked again at his hands. “At the moment, I don’t think I am of much help.”</p>
<p class="western">“I wasn’t either, at first. Fingon taught me much, and he helped me build up my strength again”, Maglor interjected. “He will show you, when the time is right.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon grinned. “I need you to give me a tour first. I’m sure you and Finrod did some changes whilst I was away.” He glanced at Finrod with a hopeful expression.</p>
<p class="western">His blonde cousin just nodded. “Will do so, though not much has changed.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">After eating, Finrod and Maglor went to their own cabin together. Fingon suspected they needed some time alone, just talking about the day. He and Maedhros took the stairs to their bedroom again, equally as exhausted.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros sat down on the bed, his face miserable. He let his mask drop, and to Fingon it became clear he was in pain. For a moment, his heart almost stopped. His mind went reeling, trying to find out what had gone wrong. Nothing came to his mind.</p>
<p class="western">Instead of panicking outwardly, he swallowed and sat down beside his beloved, offering an arm to lean into. As Maedhros accepted, he finally asked. “What is hurting you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Nothing much”, Maedhros evaded, a habit the halls had not robbed him of. As the Lord of Himring, he had often been forced to remain unaffected by his hurts, to keep his men motivated. Fingon knew this, they had talked about it before. He remembered well the day Maedhros had nearly broken down because of phantom pain in his right hand. He also remembered what Elrond had told him about the ribbon.</p>
<p class="western">“Please, Maedhros. You can tell me.”</p>
<p class="western">“It’s the damned right hand again”, he pressed out between gritted teeth. To anyone but Fingon, this response must sound aggressive. To him, it didn’t. He could hear the desperation in the words.</p>
<p class="western">“It pains you?”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes!”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon breathed in deeply. “Can I help you somehow?”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros seemed to consider his answer for a moment. “It’s similar to the phantom pain, only that there’s really a hand attached. It stings.”</p>
<p class="western">Which meant, that no balm would help. Maedhros’ fёa had not adjusted to having both hands again – As Námo had foretold, these were the complications. Fingon wanted to cry out in frustration. He hated being not able to help. He leaned in closer to his beloved.</p>
<p class="western">A thought struck him, and he sat up straighter again. His eyes travelled to the small table next to him, where a wooden box still sat. The box which held his old ribbon. The one Elrond had told him about. The one Maedhros had worn around the stump of his arm, when the pain became too much.</p>
<p class="western">“Fingon?”, Maedhros asked. He had picked up on the change in mood.</p>
<p class="western">“I may have something for you.” He carefully took the box in his hands. At the motion, Maedhros sat up as well.</p>
<p class="western">“This is for you.” Fingon offered the package.</p>
<p class="western">“Will you open it for me?”, Maedhros asked. “I fear I will drop it, and it seems precious.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded, and he lifted the lid. It was only a small motion, until it was open. Recognizing what was in the box, Maedhros gasped. He recognized the fabric as well.</p>
<p class="western">“How?”, he asked.</p>
<p class="western">“That sons of yours, they kept it as a memento. When he came to Valinor, Elrond offered it to me, telling me the story of how he and Elros found and preserved it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Tell me?”</p>
<p class="western">“Of course”, Fingon said and smiled.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “But first. Will you bind it around my wrist? Please.” His voice was pleading.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. He carefully took the ribbon in hand and unfurled it. It fell over his hands. For a moment he just held it, and Maedhros stared, as if he could not believe the small hair ornament had survived thousands of years. The he carefully extended his right arm, offering it.</p>
<p class="western">With skilled hands, as gentle as possible, Fingon wrapped the ribbon around his beloved’s wrist. He almost did not dare to touch the skin, in fear of causing more pain. Still, he looked closely, and saw a faint circle of red where he had once been forced to amputate Maedhros’ hand. He swallowed at the memory.</p>
<p class="western">“You can touch, if you want”, he got offered, but he shook his head. Maybe another day. He would need to get used to the new situation, and for now he could not overcome his old habits, which had formed in Himring so long ago.</p>
<p class="western">For a while, they were silent. Maedhros just stared at the ribbon around his right wrist. He studied it closely, as if to make sure it was the original. Fingon knew it was. Again, his beloved asked for the story.</p>
<p class="western">“Elrond found it after your death.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros looked confused. “He was nowhere near when I forced Maglor to steal the silmarils with me.”</p>
<p class="western">“He was, just not a direct witness. He went to your old tent afterwards, as your last followers left that day. He found the ribbon, and he took it.”</p>
<p class="western">“He took it…?”</p>
<p class="western">“Apparently he got told about the significance of it, or found out about it, either way, yes, he took it.”</p>
<p class="western">“And he kept it.” Maedhros’ eyes were shining with unshed tears. “All these years.”</p>
<p class="western">“I think, he was counting on seeing you again.”</p>
<p class="western">“There was a chance he would have not.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. Maedhros had spoken before about how he had once wished for the end, for the nothing, to come. Now, both of them were glad Námo had done his job, and Fingon would not think about the what ifs. He could not take the thought of loosing his beloved forever.</p>
<p class="western">“Your son is a stubborn ellon”, he said instead. “He clung to the hope, and see where it has taken him.”</p>
<p class="western">“He always was”, Maedhros replied, still in a subdued mood. “He was the more serious one of the two. His brother, Elros, in his youth, he was a storm, always ready for a fight.”</p>
<p class="western">“He did not tell me much about his brother, only that he chose the path of men.”</p>
<p class="western">“I regret I will never see him again.” A sigh. “Elrond was more calm, interested in the healing arts and in diplomacy. Elros came to me to fight, Elrond for my words.”</p>
<p class="western">“You hold him in high regards.”</p>
<p class="western">“He was a child, a child whose childhood I destroyed by taking his people from him. I owed him all the education I could give him.” Maedhros’ gaze drifted towards the window. “And now you say, he’s found his way to these shores, on the long way.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “He’s here, and has been a frequent visitor. I doubt it will take long until he arrives here.”</p>
<p class="western">“You mean, he will just come?”</p>
<p class="western">“He or Gilgalad. Who do you think will be the first?”</p>
<p class="western">A faint smile spread along Maedhros’ lips. “Gilgalad.”</p>
<p class="western">“Then I will say it will be Elrond.”</p>
<p class="western">“What does the winner get?” Maedhros raised his eyebrows.</p>
<p class="western">“Does it have to be something big? I would just claim some kisses from you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Deal.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">It took a while for the pain in Maedhros’ hand to subside. During the wait, he asked Fingon to sing for him. They debated for a while about the song, until Fingon made a decision. He knew not where his harp was being stored right now, probably Maglor had taken it into his care during his absence. Hence, his only instrument was his voice. He used it as best he could, and soon Maedhros’ right hand grabbed his left. He squeezed gently and their eyes locked.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. The Visitors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Neither Fingon nor Maedhros won the bet. Four days passed in harmony at the bay, until the quiet was shaken. These days showed a great change in Maedhros. He ate more, talked more, and became stronger. Fingon was happy, so he had not to worry about his beloved hurting himself on accident. Maedhros was no sure-footed as he had been in Himring. He had not regained all of his strength yet, but he was on a good way. The only thing giving him trouble were his hands. Fingon always kept one of his ribbons around, in case they were needed. When Maedhros asked for it, be bound it gently around his wrist.</p>
<p class="western">They used the days to relax a bit in the sun, and Maedhros explored the surrounding area on his own. Fingon used the time to help Finrod with some tasks. The last storm had uprooted some trees in the nearby forest. They pulled the wood from the forest. I would serve them well in the kitchen, as firewood.</p>
<p class="western">Otherwise, Finrod kept himself out of the way. Fingon thought this to be a strange behaviour, but he did not want to pry. Maybe Finrod had his reasons, most likely he wanted to give them space. For now, it was appreciated.</p>
<p class="western">When Fingon asked Maglor about this, the minstrel just shrugged. “He’s currently much in his own thoughts. It is likely he’s giving you space.”</p>
<p class="western">“What troubles him?”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor shook his head. “Last time, Elrond brought him a letter from Galadriel. Somehow she knew of his return, even though everyone had promised not to tell.” The minstrel’s tone was sour. “Someone must have told her.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon wanted to call Maglor an idiot. “She has the foresight, and trained with one of the Maiar once. I doubt anyone had to tell her.”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh.”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes, oh. Now, what did she write which upset him so?”</p>
<p class="western">“She told him to visit Arafinwё. Which he still refuses to do.”</p>
<p class="western">“I know”, Fingon sighed. “I hope she did not try to push him?”</p>
<p class="western">“She didn’t, but Finrod thinks she will take action herself. He’s debating on the best course. You opinion?”</p>
<p class="western">“I won’t interfere, but right now<span> such turbulence </span><span>involving the High King of Tirion</span> is the last thing Maedhros needs.”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor nodded. “Alright. At least you know now.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you, for telling me.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Fingon tried to push the thoughts aside. They gave him headaches. Finrod’s reluctance to go to Tirion was founded, especially as he did not wish to take any part in the ruling of the Noldor again. He had made this clear enough. Hiding was not the best way to avoid this, at least in Fingon’s opinion. He did not have a say in this though, it would be Finrod’s turn to make a move, if he wanted to avoid someone else making the decision for him. Now it was clear that Galadriel knew, and almost all of those who helped Fingon in his own quest. He was sure they, at least, would keep quiet. If not for Finrod, then for Maedhros. Most of them had not been informed of their return yet, which was another matter which had to be resolved quickly. The next time someone came to visit, they would need to give them letters, informing them and speaking of gratitude. Without all the support, Fingon doubted he would have succeeded.</p>
<p class="western">“What are you thinking about”, Maedhros grumbled. “I can sense your thoughts are all tumbled together.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon smiled. They had always been incredibly close, able to feel where the other was, and sometimes if the were in turmoil. The closeness had forged a shallow bond, which had grown deeper over the years.</p>
<p class="western">He turned towards his beloved. Maedhros was on his back, next to him, in bed. His expression was peaceful, his hands calm for once, on his belly. He only wore a tunic to bed, his legs bare.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon shifted closer, until their feet touched. He cuddled against Maedhros’ shoulder. “Finrod is giving me headaches.”</p>
<p class="western">“Why? Is it not my presence here which irks him?”</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t think so. Maglor confided in me, telling me Galadriel knows he’s living here. He is unsure if she will keep quiet.”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh” Maedhros shifted in bed, pressing his legs closer to Fingon, so their calves were touching. “He hasn’t told anyone?”</p>
<p class="western">“I respect his wishes, but I fear it’s going to backfire soon.”</p>
<p class="western">“Give him time”, Maedhros whispered. “I can understand why he wishes to keep private. He fears his father is going to reinstate him as High Prince, right?”</p>
<p class="western">“Yes, even tough his sibling is doing a good job. All this could be resolved with a good talk, but I fear it’s not going to happen. Do you want to be hidden, for now?”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros considered this for a moment, until he shook his head. “No, I think there is not much chance for it, and you will have to think those who supported you. Also, we have too many elves cursed with foresight in our family, they will know, if they don’t already.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon would remember those words as being prophetic. “Are you ready to meet our family soon?”</p>
<p class="western">“No”, Maedhros whispered. “But I will not hide.” A gleam appeared in his eyes, reminding Fingon of the commander and Lord his beloved had once been, an ellon who had led hundreds into battle and remained standing. He smiled, for his heart beat faster and with hope. Maedhros seemed to start to adjust to being outside the Halls of Mandos slowly.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The sound of hooves woke Fingon the next morning. It was early, the sun had barely crept over the horizon. The stars could still be observed, if one wished to do so. He was sure Maglor and Finrod had not left their cabin during the dark hours, to those horses were not theirs. Which left the question of who was coming to the bay at this time. Certainly, Maglor would have mentioned it, if they had been expecting guests. So, these new arrivals came unannounced. Who could it be? They were still a few minutes off, so Fingon carefully shook Maedhros. His beloved was next to him, sleeping soundly. He regretted to have to wake him, but it had to be done.</p>
<p class="western">“What is it?”, Maedhros grumbled into his pillow.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon smiled, because it was a cute picture. With his right hand, Maedhros held the pillow tight, around his wrist the ribbon still was bound. “There are guests, arriving outside.”</p>
<p class="western">The beautiful grey eyes opened more. “Guests?”</p>
<p class="western">“At least two riders.”</p>
<p class="western">“Sure?”</p>
<p class="western">“I’m sure it isn’t your brother and Finrod.”</p>
<p class="western">This woke Maedhros up fast. He sat up straight, and looked around the room. Fingon was half sure he was searching for weapons. There were none. He had long knives, and a bow, down in the kitchen, but these lands were peaceful, except for some predator animals. These weapons he owned, he kept them for hunting. He knew his old sword still existed, in a museum in Tirion, next to Maedhros’. These had been taken to Valinor by elves who sailed, hundreds of years ago. Here, in the bay, weapons weren’t needed.</p>
<p class="western">“Who is it then?”, Maedhros asked, worry in his voice.</p>
<p class="western">“I don’t know. But certainly not a threat.”</p>
<p class="western">“And what if someone has found out about my return? Galadriel is not the only one gifted with foresight. What if one of Thingol’s kin saw it?”</p>
<p class="western">“They would not know where the bay is, and won’t spill blood on these shores”, Fingon tried to reason. “You are in no danger. Most likely, it is one of those who know where I, and Finrod, built the cabins.”</p>
<p class="western">“How many do know?”</p>
<p class="western">“Maybe ten people”, Fingon estimated. “They are sworn to secrecy, for obvious reasons.”</p>
<p class="western">“Ah. So, now, who are the most likely to visit today?”</p>
<p class="western">“I already told you two who came often, but always separate from each other.”</p>
<p class="western">“So Elrond or Gilgalad with company?”</p>
<p class="western">“Most likely, yes. Now, let’s get dressed and greet our visitors.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">As it turned out, neither of them had won the bet they had made, as the visitors were multiple ones indeed. Fingon was the first to step out, and saw the guests. He almost wanted to laugh. Neither he or Maedhros had won their bet, it seemed.</p>
<p class="western">“Hello Fingon!”, Celebrían shouted, as she unmounted, swinging off the horse where she had sat behind Elrond. The second horse Fingon had heard coming, belonged to Gilgalad, who smiled.</p>
<p class="western">“Lady Celebrían”, he greeted her. “Welcome at my humble settlement.” It was the first time she had come to the bay, and it was a true surprise.</p>
<p class="western">Somewhere in his mind, Fingon registered Maedhros had kept towards the back, hiding inside the cabin still. He would not call him out on it, he felt his beloved needed a few moments to collect his thoughts.</p>
<p class="western">Elrond would have none of it, he dismounted, and looked around searchingly. “It is good to see you are back, Fingon. I am glad you were able to leave Námo’s realm, with success.”</p>
<p class="western">How did he know? For a few moments, Fingon was surprised, and he smiled dumbly. At least he felt dumb, until he remembered Elrond’s heritage. He was counted among the elves, but he was also part Maiar. It was likely he possessed some kind of foresight. Today, he was a picture of an elven lord. He wore robes of a burgundy color, befitting his former station. To Fingon, it seemed he had dressed with a purpose, and he had not ridden in this outfit for long.</p>
<p class="western">“I was. I guess you are not here to meet me?”</p>
<p class="western">Elrond smiled. “Of course I am here to see you, as are Gilgalad and Celebrían. It is only, I know you brought him with you, him who I have missed for millennia. One who I call ‘father’.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded, and he caught Gilgalad’s eye. His son was almost laughing in the background, signalling him he should just get on with it.</p>
<p class="western">“I will get him, will you be able to wait for a few moments?”</p>
<p class="western">“If I must.”</p>
<p class="western">For one who had been famous, and among those called wise, Elrond was impatient now. Fingon understood him, to a certain extent. In this moment, Maedhros’ well-being was his primary concern, and he would not call him into the open before making sure he was fine. He turned his back to his visitors, and went back into the cabin, to where he knew Maedhros’ was waiting. He closed the door, to give them a bit of privacy.</p>
<p class="western">“Fingon!”, Maedhros whispered as soon as the gate was shut. “What shall I do, there are both Elrond and Gilgalad!” He spoke in a low volume, so the guests would not hear them. Elven ears were sharp.</p>
<p class="western">“And Celebrían”, he supplied helpfully, only realizing too late that this was not helping. His beloved looked at him questioningly. “Elrond’s wife, Galadriel’s daughter.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros hid his face in his hands. “Oh. What will they say? I wronged them so deeply.”</p>
<p class="western">“Elrond has forgiven, he still calls you father, you heard him.”</p>
<p class="western">“But Gilgalad. My last actions were against his people, when me and Maglor went for the silmarils. I. I was prepared to fight him. Your son, Fingon.”</p>
<p class="western">“Be calm, beloved. He smiled. I know he does not wish you ill.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros breathed in deeply. His left hand played with the ribbon around his right wrist. Then he nodded. “Alright.” He straightened his back, a small smile on his lips. “I would be lying if I said I did not wish to see them, all of them.”</p>
<p class="western">“I will get them, if you wish so.”</p>
<p class="western">“Please”, Maedhros whispered.</p>
<p class="western">“But maybe not everyone at once?”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros smiled, relieved. “That would be preferable.”</p>
<p class="western">“But it has to be Elrond first.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “Yes, he would have to be.”</p>
<p class="western">So Fingon smiled encouragingly, and then went outside, to set the meeting in motion.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad pushed Elrond forward. “Go to him. Me and Celebrían, we will wait for a while.” He turned to Fingon. “I remember how I felt when I returned. Too many people at once can be overwhelming.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded in gratitude, as he had almost forgotten this. His own rebirth had been very exhausting, especially for the first months, as his family had tried to drag him to court almost immediately. He was glad neither Finrod nor Maedhros had to go through this. Fingon was proud of his son, for he had grown up to be a considerate ellon. He smiled, and then nodded, signing Elrond to follow.</p>
<p class="western">The peredhel threw a glance back over his shoulder, towards Celebrían. She smiled, which seemed to give her husband the much needed confirmation. He turned forwards again, ready to follow Fingon. There was nothing else to do than to lead the way.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Fingon was the first through the door, looking once again at Maedhros to make sure he was ready. His beloved was standing in the kitchen, his face in a carefully placed state of calmness. Along their bond, Fingon could feel the unease inside Maedhros. His beloved did hardly react to him though, his eyes trained onto the door. He was waiting.</p>
<p class="western">Elrond stepped through the door only a few moments later. His dark red robes were flowing around his body, and Fingon suddenly understood the significance behind the strange colour and cut of the outfit. It had seemed to him odd before, but this must have been the height of fashion around the end of the First Age. The time in which Elrond had grown up. Red had been a colour commonly used in the Fёanorian camp, with the exception of Maglor and Celegorm’s followers. Fingon was convinced Elrond had chosen his outfit with a purpose, maybe to show his feelings before having to address them. He had once spoken about not being on the best terms with his parents by blood, and Fingon feared it had not changed. The year he had spent in the Halls of Mandos with Maedhros had not changed the people outside. A relief and pity at the same time.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros saw the meaning in the robes immediately. A smile played around his lips, only for the blink of an eye. And then, Elrond threw himself at his foster father.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon watched them embrace, he saw the tears in Elrond’s eyes, and he saw how Maedhros shook.</p>
<p class="western">“I missed you”, Elrond whispered into Maedhros ear. “I am so glad you were allowed to return.”</p>
<p class="western">“Me too. And”, Maedhros swallowed. “I am sorry.”</p>
<p class="western">Elrond let a hand wander aimlessly down Maedhros’ back. “You are forgiven.”</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros sagged a bit into the embrace, some tension leaving his body.</p>
<p class="western">They remained in the position for a while, until Elrond drew back a little. He turned to Fingon. “Thank you for bringing my father back.”</p>
<p class="western">A choked sound from Maedhros told Fingon just how that revelation had been taken.</p>
<p class="western">“I did not only do it for you”, Fingon replied. His motivations had been selfish in part, but had aligned with all those who considered his beloved part of their family.</p>
<p class="western">“I know”, Elrond said. “And nevertheless, I am grateful.” He turned back to Maedhros, offering his hand. He in turn looked at Fingon, nodding quietly. It was a sign, and a plea, and Fingon understood it.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros asked for some privacy. This was no conversation Fingon really needed to overhear. He knew how long Elrond had waited for this moment. So, he smiled, nodded and left the room.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Outside of the cabin, he met again with Celebrían and Gilgalad. The Lady had rosy cheeks, covered by silver lines of scars fading. In this, she resembled Maedhros after Thangorodrim. Her scars had obviously been treated with care, and skill. Today, she seemed unbothered, but also a bit excited. Gilgalad held her right hand in his left, and he was smiling, too. His carefree attitude calmed the Lady.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon went to them.</p>
<p class="western">“Are they doing fine?”, Celebrían asked.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon nodded. “I think so. I left when they embraced. They deserve some privacy.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you”, Gilgalad said. “They have a lot to talk about, Elrond confided some things to me.”</p>
<p class="western">Now Fingon was curious, but he held his tongue. Gilgalad would not betray Elrond, never. Either Maedhros would tell him later, or not at all. It was hard to remain silent.</p>
<p class="western">“Nothing overly serious”, Gilgalad told him to calm him. “Just things which had remained unsaid for more than two Ages.”</p>
<p class="western">“Ah.”</p>
<p class="western">“Show me around?”, Celebrían asked. “I’ve never been here before.”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh? You haven’t visited during the last year, while I was in the Halls?”</p>
<p class="western">“No. I’m not for travels. Usually. But this time, Elrond begged me to come along.”</p>
<p class="western">“He did?”, Fingon asked. “Why?”</p>
<p class="western">“He said, meeting Maedhros would do me well, too.” She rubbed her arms, where Fingon suspected more scars were hidden underneath her clothes. It dawned on him, just why Elrond had said these words. Fingon was glad she had come along. He did not know if Maedhros would tell her anything which would ease her mind, but he was on Elrond’s side here. A meeting of these two could be interesting, as they were among the only elves, who had survived long years with their scars of torture.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon just nodded, and then smiled at her. “He will be delighted to meet you.” He was sure of it. “Alright. I will show you around. What do you think, shall we wake Maglor and Finrod?”</p>
<p class="western">Gilgalad almost giggled, which was a delightful sight. “Sleeping still, they are?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon rolled his eyes. “Apparently, because otherwise they would have already greeted you.”</p>
<p class="western">“Let’s go”, Celebrían suggested.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">It was only a few steps to the second cabin. Fingon would have led them there anyway, as this was where the guest quarters were located. It had been one of the main reasons once to built the house. Celebrían let her fingers wander over the carvings above the entrance, seemingly admiring the craft in it.</p>
<p class="western">It came to Fingon, that this would be the first time she would meet her uncle, for Finrod was her mother’s brother. No wonder she was a bit nervous, as many a legend and story must have been told about him.</p>
<p class="western">“Everything alright?”, Fingon asked, to make sure she was.</p>
<p class="western">She shook her head a bit. “I have been living for a long time on these shores, and have been a recluse for much of it, accepting I would probably never meet many of my relatives again.” Ah, so there was worry on her mind about this meeting indeed.</p>
<p class="western">“Finrod is delightful”, Gilgalad remarked. “Just you wait. He’s also a bit of a hermit these days.”</p>
<p class="western">It was true. So far, no decision had been made about him going to Tirion. Some elves now knew of his return, but so far they had been silent about it.</p>
<p class="western">“I wonder how long that will last”, Fingon uttered his thoughts.</p>
<p class="western">“Oh?” Celebrían seemed surprised by his dark comment.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon made a face. “Ah, well. Your mother, as your husband, share one talent, that of foresight. She saw Finrod’s return, and has sent him strong words.”</p>
<p class="western">The Lady laughed. “Don’t underestimate my mother. I don’t think she will tell grandfather, unless necessary. Which it isn’t.”</p>
<p class="western">“Finrod just worries.”</p>
<p class="western">Celebrían shrugged. “If mother knows, and Elrond has seen, there is a possibility others know, too.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">They stepped through the door and into the small seating area of the cabin. From there, stairs went up to the guest rooms. There were also two doors, one into the bedroom of Maglor and Finrod, and one to the bath. Fingon pointed to the one his cousins were behind. “Do you want to do the honours?”</p>
<p class="western">Celebrían nodded, a mischievous smile on her face. She stepped forward, towards the door, right hand raised. Then she knocked very loudly.</p>
<p class="western">From the inside of the room, a shout could be heard, obviously by Maglor. It took a few seconds for him to respond. “What is it?”</p>
<p class="western">Celebrían used the sweetest voice imaginable. “Won’t you greet me, Maglor?”</p>
<p class="western">“Celebrían?”</p>
<p class="western">A few hurried footsteps later, the door opened, and Maglor stood in the door. He wore a blanket around his shoulders, as he had not bothered with a tunic. He had a broad smile on his lips as he saw her, and then dived into a hug.</p>
<p class="western">“Celebrían!”, he said once again. It took him a few moments to register the other two ellyn in front of him. “Oh, Gilgalad, you’re here, too? Did you bring Elrond?”</p>
<p class="western">“I did. He’s already talking with Maedhros, he was a bit impatient.”</p>
<p class="western">“He didn’t even greet me?”</p>
<p class="western">“You were asleep.”</p>
<p class="western">“Fair enough.” Maglor grinned. “I haven’t seen you for so long. What brings you here?”</p>
<p class="western">“Elrond encouraged me to come along. He foresaw Maedhros’ return.”</p>
<p class="western">“Do you like it here?”</p>
<p class="western">“I do”, she replied. “It’s peaceful. And the nature is wonderful. I love the sea, any shore I go to.”</p>
<p class="western">“There we have something in common”, Maglor chuckled. “I saw many a beach.”</p>
<p class="western">“I know. And you don’t seem to get away from them.”</p>
<p class="western">“I’m consistent.”</p>
<p class="western">“You are.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon watched as they embraced. Maglor must seem different to Celebrían than on the day she saw him last. His hurts had eased in this place, and he had grown more outgoing. He had become a bit closer to the carefree minstrel he had been in his early youth. Fingon remembered his own shock, when he had met Maglor for the first time in Beleriand, his hollow eyes and the heavy crown upon his head.</p>
<p class="western">Maglor turned towards the bed, where no doubt Finrod was still lounging. “Get out here and greet your niece!”</p>
<p class="western">“Let me sleep”, came the answer from inside. Then silence. “Which niece?”</p>
<p class="western">“You only have one. Did you not listen?”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh. I fell asleep again, once you answered the door. Wait a moment, I’ll get decent.”</p>
<p class="western">From his position next to the door, Fingon saw a flash of Finrod’s naked back, with scratch-marks running down it. A view he could do without. Thankfully neither Celebrían nor Gilgalad had seen it, their view blocked by Maglor and his blanket.</p>
<p class="western">“Is he always like this?”, Celebrían asked.</p>
<p class="western">“He is”, Maglor answered her question. “He sleeps a lot, but to be fair, we went to bed late.”</p>
<p class="western">Apparently, Celebrían caught the meaning, as she chuckled a bit. “Married life, huh?”</p>
<p class="western">“We are not married”, Maglor said.</p>
<p class="western">“Yet”, Gilgalad added from the side, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p class="western">Finrod finally appeared next to them, wearing a simple brown tunic, dark trousers and a belt around his waist. He had foregone his usual attire of jewels. The only ornamented bit of his outfit was the belt. It had a big golden buckle with fine strands of wire welded on top, forming beautiful swirls. Fingon had not seen it before, so he suspected it was a work of Finrod’s own hand. He doubted it had been imported from Tirion.</p>
<p class="western">“Well met, Lady Celebrían”, Finrod said, bowing before her. “I hope your journey had been a safe one.”</p>
<p class="western">“It was”, she said. “But I hated every bit of it.”</p>
<p class="western">“Oh well, it is a long way. Not that I can tell”, Finrod joked.</p>
<p class="western">Celebrían sighed. “You should make the travel, probably soon. My mother misses you.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod’s smile fell. “Let us talk about something else, shall we?”</p>
<p class="western">“Fine with me”, Celebrían said, and her eyes travelled to the belt buckle as well. She smiled. “Did you do this one yourself?”</p>
<p class="western">“Not alone, I did the base for it. Maglor helped with the golden wires on top.”</p>
<p class="western">“Yours was the design”, Maglor insisted. “I did not do much.”</p>
<p class="western">“Without you, it would not have been able to finish it in this quality.”</p>
<p class="western">“Still, yours was the greatest part of this work.”</p>
<p class="western">“I beg to differ.”</p>
<p class="western">Celebrían grinned, and then turned to Fingon. She nodded into the direction of the couple and mouthed some words. “Married life.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Guests and Quiet Moments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: Fixed a minor inconsistency at the end of CH28, so that Maglor and Finrod are really still sleeping.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western"><span>Gilgalad and Celebrían</span> settled down in their rooms in Finrod’s cabin. There were two rooms, which both held two beds. These could be pushed together, in case a married couple came to visit. As there had not been any visitors in the previous weeks, the rooms were ready, albeit a bit dusty. Fingon offered to help them take their bags to the guest room. Celebrían seemed to be relieved, and gladly accepted his offer. So they went out of the cabin again, walking past Maglor and Finrod again, who were eating their breakfast.</p><p class="western">The tree visitors had surprisingly many bags on their horses. As well trained elven steeds, they had not wandered off, and stayed in the vicinity of the cabins. Celebrían whistled once, and all three horses came to her. She petted their noses for a few moments, until she went for the bags on her own horse. Fingon went to the one belonging to Elrond, as made obvious by the colour of the blanked underneath the saddle. It was also the horse carrying the heaviest cargo.</p><p class="western">“What did you bring?”, Fingon asked, as he lifted the first of three heavy bags from the back of the animal.</p><p class="western">Celebrían shrugged. “Clothes, fabrics, some other things Elrond thought you might need, now that Maedhros is back. And of course our own clothes. Elrond also has brought the heavy robe, which you already saw him wearing.”</p><p class="western">Fingon just nodded. “Shall I take everything to your rooms, or is there anything which can stay downstairs?”</p><p class="western">It was Gilgalad, who answered him. “One of my packs is filled with fabrics for you and Maedhros to choose from. They can stay wherever you want to put them.”</p><p class="western">“Best to put them into the storage. So far, Maedhros is wearing either mine or Maglor’s clothes.”</p><p class="western">Gilgalad raised an eyebrow. “He’s taller than both of you.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, but he’s closest to Maglor, so the longer tunics fit him. I’m unused to seeing him in blue though.”</p><p class="western">“Then you will be delighted to hear Elrond mostly urged us to bring red and green.”</p><p class="western">“How thoughtful of him”, Fingon remarked, and got to the task of carrying the heavy bag up the stairs to the bedroom Celebrían had chosen. He wanted to get done with this.</p><p class="western">A few minutes later, he and Gilgalad were done with it. The horses had wandered off a bit, now free of saddles, ready to explore the shore. The two ellyn sat down the last two bags in Celebrían’s room. She had left them to do the heavy lifting early on. Fingon saw how tired she had become, her earlier energy gone. She had set down on the bed, and leaned back after a while. Now she had wrapped the blanket around herself, and Gilgalad sat down next to her. Thankfully, she leaned against him.<br/>
“I should leave you to your break”, Fingon offered. “If you don’t want to come down today, breakfast is tomorrow at sunrise.”</p><p class="western">Both Gilgalad and Celebrían agreed to come over for breakfast in the morning to Fingon’s cabin. She appreciated very much being left alone, Fingon saw it in her relaxed posture. So he nodded, and closed the door behind them.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">It left Fingon with free time he did not know how to spent at first. He looked around for Maglor and Finrod, but they seemed to have gone on their ways. There was a singular track, leading over the dunes, which meant the wanderer was wandering again. It took Fingon a few moments to register the dark cloud coming out of the chimney of the forge, which indicated where Finrod had gone. Fingon dared to to disturb him, as he was no help. Instead, he went over to the horses again, and showed them were they could find fresh water and protection from the elements. They, at least, were grateful, and allowed him to pet them. They also seemed to get along with the other three horses already living at the bay. One day soon, Fingon would need to ride to Tirion, getting a steed for Maedhros from the market. It wasn’t urgent though, as neither planned to go on longer rides for now. Still, they would need a fourth horse soon, if they maybe all wanted to visit Elrond at his house. To this day, Fingon had not seen much of the peredhel’s sons. Especially Maedhros would have an interest in meeting them, as he could be considered one of their grandfathers.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Once the horses were looked after, Fingon felt aimless again. With everyone else occupied or resting, he had nothing to do. He wandered to the space in front of his own cabin, and turned his face towards the sun. It was shortly after mid-day. He felt it warm upon his skin. It was a good feeling, and so he stayed like this for a few minutes. He could hear the wind rushing over the dunes, and the birds in the forest. He also heard the murmuring of Elrond and Maedhros, but he could not make out the words. They must have opened the window of the kitchen, otherwise he would not have been able to hear them at all. Despite not understanding, it was still like intruding, so Fingon turned his steps away.</p><p class="western">He then came by the bushes of berries he had planted shorty after he had chosen the bay as his home. They were in a relatively good condition, event though he had not tended to them for the last year. Maglor, or Finrod, must have cared for them. Which made sense. Fingon knew they both enjoyed eating fresh berries, and other products made from them. Currently, the bushes were in bloom, a beautiful picture to behold. Some bees were flying around them, and Fingon smiled. If this was anything to go by, the harvest would be a great one.</p><p class="western">There were other plants, which needed some attention though. In the raised garden beds he had built, weeds were growing between the healing herbs and the salad. It was not Fingon’s preferred duty to sort out the weeds, but it needed to be done. Otherwise, they would hinder the important plants from growing.</p><p class="western">A while later, his hands were stained with dirt, and he resisted the urge to wipe them on his tunic. Instead, he went to a water can, and let some of the liquid run over his skin. This would do for the moment.</p><p class="western">Overall, the garden beds had been in a great shape. Even the special beds, in which the herbs for Maglor’s scars now grew, were in a good condition, and they were hard to keep so. Fingon needed to thank his cousins for the upkeep, and their work in general.</p><p class="western">After the weeding, he checked the growing plants. The salad was already very far, so he plucked a few leaves from it. These, combined with some seeds from the storage and some other early vegetables, would serve him well as supper. He laid them carefully beside him, as there were a few weeds between the salad plants as well. He sighed and got to work.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Weeding took some time, and it soon became darker outside. The sun was setting. Fingon’s stomach growled, and he turned his feet to his cabin. He knew there was food somewhere. He entered just as Maedhros and Elrond were eating. They had found the bread and the cheese in the storage, and were eating peacefully. Maedhros face had a strange expression on, somewhere between dumbfounded and careful.</p><p class="western">Fingon asked them, if he could interrupt them for a few moments, to prepare his own meal.</p><p class="western">“Of course!”, Elrond exclaimed. “It is your home. I would not dare to make you feel unwelcome here.”</p><p class="western">“I respect your privacy”, Fingon replied. “And I would have understood it, if you wished me to not intrude further.”</p><p class="western">“Don’t worry”, Maedhros said, and reached out with his right hand. It was shaking slightly, and Fingon gripped it firmly. He squeezed it for a moment, before letting go, and giving an encouraging smile to his beloved.</p><p class="western">Maedhros returned the smile, and then nodded.</p><p class="western">With this permission, Fingon made himself a salad with some of the things he had taken from the garden. He put everything into a bowl, and seasoned it. Once he was finished, he took his bowl and said goodbye to Elrond and Maedhros once again. They smiled, and went back to their conversation.</p><p class="western">Fingon stepped out of the door of his cabin, into the twilight of the early evening. The sky was still tinged with gold in the west, and the wind had become colder. It did not bother him much, but he made note of it. There was a bench somewhere in the dunes, one he planned on eating his meal on. The wind was not strong, so he did not have to worry about sand getting into his food. It had happened once, and it had not been pleasant.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He was eating, as footsteps approached from behind. Fingon turned around, and saw Maglor coming his way. The minstrel was carrying his harp, and he smiled.</p><p class="western">Fingon let the fork sink, and then he waved. Maglor took it as a sign and came over.</p><p class="western">“Salad?”, he asked, raising his eyebrows.</p><p class="western">“Fresh from the garden.” He swallowed. “You did keep good care of my garden beds.”</p><p class="western">“They feed us, too”, Maglor reminded him. “So keeping them was in our own interest.”</p><p class="western">“Still. Thank you.”</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded, and then turned his eyes to the horizon. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”</p><p class="western">“It is”, Fingon agreed. “You must have seen many sunsets…”</p><p class="western">“More than I wish to count”, Maglor replied. “They are almost always this beautiful. The golden light, it sometimes reminds me of the Trees.”</p><p class="western">“Me too”, Fingon confessed. “Though I do not wish to return to those years.”</p><p class="western">“Neither do I. Much good happened then, but I have been changed, and the sun is a reminder of the past. At least sometimes.”</p><p class="western">“If you want to see it like this…”</p><p class="western">“How do you see it?”</p><p class="western">“The sun is a sign, that no matter what, there will always be hope. Remember how we felt, after the Trees were poisoned and the silmarils taken? Hopeless and angry. When the sun came up, in Beleriand, I felt hope again for the first time after so long.”</p><p class="western">“An interesting view”, Maglor said, “And one which bears truth as well.” He then took up his harp, playing a song without words. Fingon watched him and kept quiet, listening and enjoying the moment.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fingon was sitting in bed, reading a book in the shine of a lamp, as Maedhros came back. He seemed exhausted, and Fingon could almost feel it himself. The conversation must have been draining for his beloved partner, but also, there was an aura of relief around him. A weight seemed to be lifted of him, even if his thoughts were still in disarray.</p><p class="western">For a moment, Fingon just watched. Maedhros looked at him, but then averted his gaze. Something was bothering him.</p><p class="western">“Maedhros?”, Fingon asked carefully.</p><p class="western">“I need to go out for a while”, Maedhros <span>revealed</span>, making a grab for his cloak. It was one Maglor had given him.</p><p class="western">“Alright, I will come with you”, Fingon offered enthusiastically. He did not really understand what Maedhros wanted to do at this time, outside, but he would follow.</p><p class="western">Maedhros’ face fell, and Fingon got a sinking feeling in his gut. Somehow, he must have overstepped. “Alone.” It was statement, an order for Fingon to stay behind. He felt as if the rug had been drawn from underneath his feet, just for one moment. He would not make a scene.</p><p class="western">“Alright”, Fingon said, but he wasn’t able to mask the hurt, nor the worries.</p><p class="western">Maedhros face softened. “I just need a few moments alone, I’ll be back soon.”</p><p class="western">All the assuring did not help Fingon, during the time Maedhros was on his way. He sat in their room, waiting for the minutes to go by. Logically, he knew it was fruitless, and probably not a healthy behaviour. Old habits died hard, even if he thought he had gotten rid of such childish behaviour.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Letters - Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Of course, Maedhros returned without a scratch, and even in a better mood than he had left with. Fingon hid underneath the blanket of his bed, trying to pretend to be sleeping. It was futile, his beloved knew him very well, even after all the time they had spent apart. He crawled into bed, snuggling close from behind. He even wrapped his arms around Fingon, his head coming to rest at his neck.</p><p class="western">“I’m back”, Maedhros whispered into Fingon’s ear. “I am back. You can sleep now peacefully.”</p><p class="western">Despite the offer, Fingon opened his eyes wide, and then pushed himself firmer against his beloved. “I am glad you are back.”</p><p class="western">“I promised I would return after a short while.”</p><p class="western">Fingon relaxed a bit. “I am glad you told me you had to have a few moments for yourself.”</p><p class="western">“You had not seemed pleased by my request.”</p><p class="western">“I was clingy, sorry.”</p><p class="western">“Don’t apologize”, Maedhros whispered, and he pressed a gentle kiss against Fingon’s skin. “We both could have acted better in that situation.”</p><p class="western">“Maybe”, Fingon replied. “Did it help?”</p><p class="western">Maedhros was silent for a few moments, pondering over his answer. “It helped organizing my thoughts, and alleviate my grief. Elrond spoke of so many, and much of Elros.”</p><p class="western">“Your second son.§</p><p class="western">“Apparently. It feel strange, calling them my children, even in my thoughts.”</p><p class="western">Fingon let his right hand wander over Maedhros’, which was pressing against his chest. “And yet, Elrond calls himself your son.”</p><p class="western">“He does, though I am still undeserving of this title.”</p><p class="western">“I think, it’s not your decision to make.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“He spoke of Elros, only <span>after</span> I asked.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. “He knew you would mourn him.”</p><p class="western">“The fate of men.” Maedhros sighed. “He was always the most adventurous of us, during these years. I regret not being there, when they made their choice.”</p><p class="western">It was hard to find an answer to that. Fingon knew very well the actions, which had led to Maedhros missing that event. Namely, giving the children to Gilgalad, stealing the silmarils and then Maedhros’ suicide and Maglor’s wandering. Fingon knew he would not place much blame on his beloved, as he was aware how long Maedhros had tried to fight the Oath his father had sworn. Nothing of these facts he dared to voice. Instead, he settled for a more diplomatic reply. “I’m sure he missed you, too.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros shook his head. “I can’t be sure. Elros often spoke of hating me, especially me, for taking away their family.”</p><p class="western">“And yet, he made a box for the ribbon.” Fingon slowly stretched his fingers and let them wander over Maedhros’ wrist, where the ribbon sat even now. “I left it with Elrond, and chose a different box, so he might keep the original as a memento. It still exists though.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros breathed in deeply. “This, Elrond did not tell.”</p><p class="western">“It is but a minor detail.”</p><p class="western">“He misses his brother, after all these years.”</p><p class="western">“You miss your brothers, too. Even if you know they will probably return one day.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros sighed. “Except for Caranthir, he made his choice. I am glad I was able to say goodbye to him.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, Caranthir made his choice”, Fingon agreed. “He seems happy though. I would worry more about Curufin.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros grinned. “I don’t. Celebrimbor will find him, and they will both return. I am sure Gilgalad waits for this day.”</p><p class="western">“Yes. They were friends, in their time as rulers. What else did Elrond tell you about the time after your death.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros grimaced. “How he searched for me, shortly after. For a while, he refused to believe I had died.”</p><p class="western">“Oh.”</p><p class="western">“I should have left him a message, though he knew in which condition I had been then. He was at Gilgalad’s campt already, and the king must have told him about my last stand. About killing again, and taking the silmarils.”</p><p class="western">“He must have known. Accepting death is never easy. Remember how I was after father’s death at the hands of Morgoth? Like Elrond with you, there was no body. It made grieving hard.”</p><p class="western">“I remember”, Maedhros whispered. “And I feel guilty for putting Elrond through this.”</p><p class="western">“Don’t. To me, he seemed like he understood later. The way you took, I mean.”</p><p class="western">“It was the only way to stop hurting people. I killed and wounded too many, for the silmarils. They were cursed, not necessarily by the Oath, but by their shine. You know, the light of them, many desired it. The stones had to be gone.”</p><p class="western">“And now, they are”, Fingon agreed. “One among the stars, one in the sea, the other in the belly of Arda. It will be long ages before they turn up again.”</p><p class="western">“I wish I would never see one of them again.”</p><p class="western">“Your father would call this blasphemy”, Fingon joked. It was true. He had heard the speeches of Fёanáro in his time. About how the silmarils were the greatest creation on Arda, and how the Valar and Eru had no claim on them.</p><p class="western">“He would have. I do not know if he changed in the Halls.”</p><p class="western">Fingon was not really surprised by this statement. He wondered about that before. Had Fёanáro changed? Had he seen the ill of his ways? He was not out of the Halls, to maybe not. Maedhros seemed confident about his father though.</p><p class="western">“Me neither. I guess we will find out, when it is time. Did Elrond tell you what he did, when you died?”</p><p class="western">“Elrond said that his brother soon went the path of men, taking the land the Valar offered, after the War of Wrath. He had many children, and his line lasted for long.”</p><p class="western">“Ah yes. Elrond’s daughter actually married the last heir of Elros’ line”, Fingon said. “Her name was Arwen, and she chose the way of men, too.”</p><p class="western">“Elrond spoke of her, briefly. I got the impression he still hurts about this.”</p><p class="western">“It is likely. He does not talk about her often. What else did he speak of?”</p><p class="western">“Of his own two sons, Elladan and Elrohir. They are in Aman, too. So I can meet them. I have… grandchildren?”</p><p class="western">“As Elrond calls you his father, you are their grandfather, yes.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">When Fingon and Maedhros awoke in the morning, laughter could be heard from downstairs. A female voice was mixed in, which told them, that Celebrían had taken the invitation to breakfast.</p><p class="western">Fingon was the first one to step into the kitchen, but Maedhros was not far behind him. He had not greeted Gilgalad or Celebrían yet, but his talk with Elrond the day before seemed to have given him some courage.</p><p class="western">“Good morning”, Fingon said in greeting, looking at everyone in the room. Only Maglor was missing, but he liked his sleep sometimes too much.</p><p class="western">“Morning”, Finrod mumbled, staring into his bowl of food. He and Maglor were very well suited for each other.</p><p class="western">Celebrían, Elrond and Gilgalad were more awake. They greeted Fingon with enthusiasm, but also remarked on his coming late.</p><p class="western">“I always thought you elves had the best ears, how you could have slept with Celebrían’s loud banter downstairs is beyond me”, Elrond teased.</p><p class="western">“You’re an elf yourself”, Maedhros retorted with a smile.</p><p class="western">“Only half”, Elrond clarified, “my ears aren’t as sharp.” Then he seemed to remember his manners. “Celebrían, this is Maedhros Fёanorion, you may have heard from him. Maedhros, this is my lovely wife, Celebrían.”</p><p class="western">“Hi!”, she said, grinning a bit, her eyes travelling over Maedhros’ for. They rested on his hands and arms for a moment, where some scars were still visible. “I guess we are related twice over, Maedhros. It is a pleasure meeting you.”</p><p class="western">“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Celebrían.”</p><p class="western">“Please, no titel, or I will have to call you Lord. Or Prince.”</p><p class="western">“First names it is”, Maedhros conceded. “I will be a prince soon enough again, I fear.”</p><p class="western">Gilgalad, who had remained in the background so far, decided this to be the moment to speak up, too. “Hello, Maedhros.”</p><p class="western">“Ereinion. It is good to see you found yourself to these lands as well.”</p><p class="western">“I came the short way, as you must certainly be aware.”</p><p class="western">“I meant, outside the Halls”, Maedhros clarified, and he smiled. “I am honoured you do not wish me ill these days.”</p><p class="western">Gilgalad nodded. “I do not wish you ill, never would.”</p><p class="western">“You would have every right and reason to.”</p><p class="western">“And I chose not to. Though I may have some questions for you, but they can be answered whenever you choose.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “When the time comes, I will try to answer as truthful as I can.”</p><p class="western">“Thank you. Now. What do you want for breakfast? I’m afraid Celebrían as taken whatever was left of the ham, so your choice is already limited.”</p><p class="western">“Some bread and cheese would be fine”, Maedhros replied.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“Shall I carry news from you to Tirion and your family?”, Elrond asked in the afternoon of the day. “I could take them with me, if you do wish so.”</p><p class="western">Fingon thought on it for a moment. He needed to inform some people of his return, especially his family, who he wasn’t on best terms right now. Except for Aredhel and his father. His mother and Turgon were the problems.</p><p class="western">“I would like to send a few letters”, Fingon said. “To my father, and one to Aredhel.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros was silent for a moment. “I would like to sent a letter to my mother and the Ambarussa. Though”, he hesitated, “I am not sure my hands will allow me to write already.” He stared at them, unhappy.</p><p class="western">“I can help you, if you wish”, Elrond offered.</p><p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “Thank you for the offer.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Later, when Fingon and Maedhros were alone again, Fingon got out his writing kit. It included some paper made by the elves of Doriath, and a pen made by artisans from Tirion.</p><p class="western">He sat down at the table in the kitchen, and began writing a letter to his family. He decided to not only address it to his father, but to include his mother and Turgon as well. He told them about being back, and having brought Maedhros back. He also asked them, to be kind, and not talk about their return to anyone outside the immediate family. Especially he asked them to not talk to the High King yet. Fingon knew his father and the king were on good terms, but in this matter, his father would certainly follow his request.</p><p class="western">Fingon also included a small note for Turgon. He knew his brother was in his new city, but Fingolfin would certainly go to the new version of Gondolin soon. He would carry the note. It was something Fingon counted on, as the short letter included his apology, for his harsh treatment of his brother in the years after his own rebirth.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">After sealing his own letters, Fingon gave the writing equipment to his beloved, and sat down next to him, patiently. He waited and saw, that Maedhros’ used a sheet of paper to try out his handwriting first. His left hand seemed to cramp after the first line, and he let the pen fall on the sheet. It left small ink stains on the material. Maedhros’ just sighed, and tried his right. The one, he had not had in millennia. It led to almost the same result. Still, he tried again, and again, until he was frustrated. Fingon could almost feel the slow and cold anger in his own fёa.</p><p class="western">“Maedhros”, he whispered.</p><p class="western">“I can do this.”</p><p class="western">Fingon stretched out his own right hand carefully. “I am sure you will be able to write. But. Probably not yet? Your hands are untrained, and hurt. Please, beloved, let me help.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros froze for a moment. “But then neither mother nor Ambarussa will be able to recognize my handwriting, and they will worry.”</p><p class="western">“They will worry either way”, Fingon tried to calm his partner. “Maybe you can sign the letter, this should be possible, right?”</p><p class="western">Maedhros finally nodded. “Thank you.”</p><p class="western">“Thank you for not being dramatic about this.”</p><p class="western">“I will try to practice soon, though.”</p><p class="western">“Fair enough. It’s easy work after all, and should not strain you overly much. Now, shall we begin the letter to your mother?” Fingon carefully pulled the paper out of Maedhros’ hands and took a fresh sheet. He then looked at Maedhros, waiting for him to dictate the words.</p><p class="western">Only silence followed.</p><p class="western">“I do not know, how to begin”, Maedhros finally confessed.</p><p class="western">“With a greeting, I would advise”, Fingon said, a bit cheekily.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Dear mother,</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>I am glad to inform you, that Fingon’s quest to the Halls has been successful. I have returned together with him, and currently dwell at his home at the bay in the west.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I am adjusting well to being among the living again. My hands are giving me trouble still, that is why I asked Fingon to help me write this letter. He greets you as well.</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">“What else shall I write them?”, Maedhros asked. “I feel as if not much has happened, which would interest them.”</p><p class="western">“Your mother would certainly be interested in everything you want to share with her”, Fingon mused. “Maybe you can tell her about your meeting with Elrond?</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>As you can gather from the messenger, I met Elrond already. His gift of foresight told him of my return. It is strange to speak of him as my son, though he calls me one of his fathers. As he does with Maglor. I think that should make him your grandson? Have you met before?”</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Here Fingon interjected, and told Maedhros, that Nerdanel and Elrond had, in fact, met before. They had both gone on the quest to the Halls of Mandos. They had both been a great help, and had seemed to like each other. Maedhros was pleased by the news, but he kept the question in the letter, just to have something Nerdanel could answer to.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Elrond has grown up to be a remarkable ellon, and his wisdom led many on the right paths throughout the Ages. I am proud of him. It is an honour to have him call me his father.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Maglor is doing well, as far as I can tell. His scars have gotten better, so he can play music again. I love to listen to him, and Finrod, when they play. It is a good life I have found here, with my partner, brother, and cousin.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Once I feel ready to do so, I will travel to Tirion, to finally meet you again, mother. It has been too long, and yet, I can’t find the strength for the long ride to the capital yet. Please have patience for a while.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Give my love to the Ambarussa. I am glad they have been granted mercy as well, and that they have returned to you.</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Until soon,</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Maedhros.</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Fingon helped to seal the letter with red wax, into which he etched the eight-pointed star by hand. So far, nobody at the bay had thought of ordering one, not even for Maglor. Fingon also refused to seal the letter with his own stamp, as he felt wrong doing so. When Maedhros asked him about it, he only shrugged, for he did not know how to explain his feelings.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">They gave their letters to Elrond, and he promised to deliver them in person. Fingon knew he would take great care with these messages. Some things depended on how those letters were received. Nerdanel would be glad, of course, to know of Maedhros’ return, but on Fingon’s side, there could be problems. As far as he knew, his mother had still not gotten over the revelation of his relationship with Maedhros.</p><p class="western">He sighed, and tugged his beloved up the stairs, to bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Letters -Part II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Celebrían did not possess the patience Gilgalad had, as it soon turned out. In the evening, she just dragged Maedhros a few steps away from where they all had a shared picnic at the shore. Elrond and Maglor were deep into conversation, and so were Finrod and Gilgalad. Fingon, who had up until that point been listening to the latter, watched as his beloved was going with Celebrían. She seemed eager, and very awake. The whole day, she had almost vibrated with a certain energy, and Fingon had waited for her to speak up, about what was on her mind.</p><p class="western">He turned his head, so that he might catch what they were talking about.</p><p class="western">“I’m sorry for dragging you away”, Celebrían said just then. “I just…”</p><p class="western">“You have questions”, Maedhros helped her out. “About Elrond?”</p><p class="western">“No. About you. Your scars, to be precise.” She looked Maedhros in the eyes. He stiffened at the mention of his current and past wounds. Fingon could see it, even if they were standing in the shadow of a dune a few steps away.</p><p class="western">“My scars…” Maedhros trailed off, then he swallowed. “What do you want to know about them?”</p><p class="western">“How do you. How did you. Bear them?” She carefully rolled the sleeve of her arm up, to reveal all the marks upon them. Fingon had been told the story, of her being captured and tortured by orcs. How she had to sail or fade, and chose the first.</p><p class="western">Maedhros was silent for a while, just looking at her. Her shyness was new to Fingon, a bit at least. He had seen her scars. But then he remembered the difference. Then, he had been a visitor in her own home, where she was comfortable. Now, she was outside her home. Maybe that was the reason why she felt different.</p><p class="western">“Right now, it is easy”, Maedhros said softly. “I lost most of them when I left the Halls. In Himring, I often felt uncomfortable. Why do you ask?”</p><p class="western">“I”, she hesitated, “I still feel uncomfortable with mine.”</p><p class="western">“I am sorry to hear this”, Maedhros said. “For me, it helped to remember, that the scars don’t portray what I am. The people will look, always and forever, and some will judge you for them.”</p><p class="western">“I know”, Celebrían whispered. “And I hate it.”</p><p class="western">“Whatever they say, they never know. If it was true for me, it is for you as well.”</p><p class="western">“How did you find the inner strength to face it everyday?”</p><p class="western">Maedhros was silent for a while. “In the beginning, I had help. Fingon and my brothers were there. Later, I was harder, when I started out in Himring.”</p><p class="western">“I could not stay in Imladris. Was I weak?”</p><p class="western">“You weren’t”, Maedhros replied. “You made the decision for what was best for you, and that takes a lot of strength sometimes.”</p><p class="western">“Like you, when you gave up the crown?”</p><p class="western">“No, that was easy. A king should always serve the people, not an Oath he swore to a stone. It was hard going to Himring. It was the most dangerous place in Beleriand, and yet it drew me there.”</p><p class="western">“And you left Fingon for it.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros nodded. “I did.”</p><p class="western">“Oi, Fingon, where are you with your thoughts?”, Finrod suddenly asked, loudly.</p><p class="western">Finrod shuddered, and turned towards his cousin. “What?”</p><p class="western">“I just asked what your plans were, but you seemed overly occupied with your sweetheart talking to the only Lady here.”</p><p class="western">“Plans, for what?”</p><p class="western">“You did not listen to anything Elrond said, did you?”</p><p class="western">“No?” Fingon turned to Elrond. “What do you want to know?”</p><p class="western">“Well, I told Maglor, I will be going to Turgon’s new settlement, where I have been told Eärendil dwells, when he is not sailing across the sky. I asked if you had similar plans to visit your family.”</p><p class="western">This was news indeed. So far, Elrond had not achieved much in establishing a connection to his birth-parents. Especially his mother had been mildly problematic, so he spoke already of trying his blood-father first. There had not been a schedule for this so far.</p><p class="western">“No, I do not plan on going to Tirion soon”, Fingon said. “I would like to let father know of my return though. He has been supportive of my quest to the Halls. As long as I do not know if my mother will welcome me, I will not go to Tirion. Well, if Maedhros does not wish to go first.”</p><p class="western">“I have seen your mother recently”, Gilgalad stated. “It was at court in Tirion. I talked briefly with her, partly about you and Maedhros. To me, she did not seem sour anymore.”</p><p class="western">Fingon nodded. “Thank you for telling me. Still, I would not risk it.”</p><p class="western">“I understand”, Gilgalad said. “I hope it will go well in the end, for you and Maedhros.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The guests left two days later. It was sad, to see them go, but the journey had taken a toll on Celebrían. She was still cheery sometimes, and teased Finrod often, but she also seemed tired constantly.</p><p class="western">“I miss my house”, she confessed one evening, when they were having another picnic. The resorted to those, as the table in the kitchen was to small for seven elves.</p><p class="western">Elrond took her hand gently, and let his thump caress her skin. “I’m sorry my love.”</p><p class="western">“I do not want to end your time with your fathers”, Celebrían whispered.</p><p class="western">“But you wish to return to your own home, we understand”, Gilgalad finished her sentence. “I would go with you, if Elrond wishes to stay.”</p><p class="western">Fingon thought this offer to be a generous one, as Gilgalad was only a family friend of Elrond. He was impressed by the son he had raised, once again.</p><p class="western">Elrond was having none of it. “No. I will come with you.”</p><p class="western">“We are not suddenly disappearing”, Maglor said. “We will be here, whenever you wish to see us. Except if we come to yours, of course.”</p><p class="western">Celebrían smiled at him, her expression being a thankful one.</p><p class="western">So the next day, Elrond and Gilgalad lifted the now significantly lighter packages on the horses, and then all three guests said their goodbyes. Elrond and Maedhros embraced for long, and so did Celebrían and Finrod. Despite the teasing, they had found an understanding with each other.</p><p class="western">All four inhabitants of the settlement of the bay waved their guest goodbye. After they had vanished between the trees, they calmed down again.</p><p class="western">“I like my niece”, Finrod exclaimed. “She is delightful, and I am glad I finally got to meet her.”</p><p class="western">Maglor nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “She is. Her presence calmed me, shortly after my arrival on these shores.”</p><p class="western">“I like her”, Maedhros said. “Though I was mostly glad that Elrond had chosen to forgive me for wronging him in the past.”</p><p class="western">“I had no doubt in him”, Fingon said. “Otherwise, he would not have come along on my way to the Halls.”</p><p class="western">“I had never dared to call him my son”, Maglor said. “And yet, he does call himself our son. It amazes me every time, in how high regard he holds two murderers.”</p><p class="western">“And yet, he loves you both”, Finrod murmured in agreement.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Gilgalad returned only two weeks later. He came in the morning light of mid-summer, bringing letters from different people. There <span>was one from</span> Elrond to Maglor, one for Finrod from Celebrían, one for Maedhros from his mother and another three letters for Fingon.</p><p class="western">“I am not used to being a messenger”, Gil-Galad said. “But somehow they gave me these delicate letters anyway. It is strange, dealing with the kings before me.”</p><p class="western">“I was before you, too.”</p><p class="western">“You are different”, Gilgalad protested.</p><p class="western">“Kings, plural?”, Fingon asked. He had not looked at the letters yet, so he did not know who sent them.</p><p class="western">“Yes”, Gil-Galad replied and rubbed his nose a bit. “Came all in the same week. First your father, then High King Arafinwё and last was Turgon. I suggest you read them in that order.”</p><p class="western">“I will do so”, Fingon promised. “What will you do in the meantime?”</p><p class="western">“Bothering Finrod”, Gil-Galad said and winked. He left Fingon to his own devices.</p><p class="western">The dark haired ellon pressed the letters to his chest and went to his cabin and up the stairs to his and Maedhros’ bedroom. His beloved was sitting on the bed, reading a book in the modern Sindarin dialect. The language had shifted a bit since their days and reading helped with learning the finesses a great deal.</p><p class="western">Maedhros looked up as Fingon entered the room. He laid his book aside, upon the covers of the bed he was sitting on. “You are troubled by something”, he stated and his gaze found the letters.</p><p class="western">“Gil-Galad just arrived with some letters.”</p><p class="western">“Ah, so the horse wasn’t Maglor’s. Who wrote these?”</p><p class="western">“High Kings, ruling and not.”</p><p class="western">Maedhros raised an eyebrow. “Uncle Arafin wrote you a letter? And your father and Turgon?”</p><p class="western">“How did you find out these letters are from them?”</p><p class="western">“Easy”, Maedhros chuckled. “You said Kings, plural. There are five living, counting you, and as Gil-Galad is the messenger, he would not have written you a letter. Which leaves the three I named.”</p><p class="western">“Clever”, Fingon smiled cheekily. “Wrong on one account though.”</p><p class="western">“Which would be?”</p><p class="western">“There are six elves alive who were called High King at least once.” Fingon leaned in and pressed a kiss to Maedhros’ lips.</p><p class="western">“You can’t count my brief kingship”, Maedhros protested after the kiss had ended.</p><p class="western">“I can and I will, my dear. Now, let’s read these letters.”</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">The letters of Arafinwё and Turgon, Fingon laid aside for now. These could wait, even though the letter of the king was heavy indeed. It was wrapped in an envelope of fine material, and the golden seal marked it as important. Still, Fingon ignored the message for now. He had left the diplomats at court, and did not wish to join their ranks again. No message of the king would be urgent for Fingon.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">He took instead the letter coming from his parents’ house into hand.</p><p class="western">The first thing which struck Fingon as odd was the handwriting on the outside of the letter. It wasn’t his father’s, it was his mother’s. It was her who had addressed the letter. The paper was of slightly lesser quality than the letter of Arafinwё had been, but still elegant. It was of a beige colour and the words were written in black ink.</p><p class="western">“I think it’s from my mother”, Fingon told Maedhros. “This is her handwriting.” He did not know how to feel about this. Their last conversation had ended with her leaving and after that they had not seen each other again. She had shown her opinion about his love clear that day. She had not supportive, which had given Fingon grief and he knew not how to heal the breach between. Even before reading, he placed hope onto her written message.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Dear Findekáno,</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>As I am sure you have gather from the script, it is your mother writing. I am sorry for the harsh words I directed at you at our last meeting. My behaviour has not been fair to you. I have also spoken with Nerdanel already. She is overjoyed, even though she can’t meet you right now. She sends her love and greetings. I am sure there has been a letter given to the messenger for Maedhros from her. </em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I have been told Maedhros’ return has brought you much joy, and what you did to aid his healing. You spoke in your letter about his old wounds still bothering him, which I am sorry to hear. I now realize I have misjudged how deep your feelings for him run and apologize for my ignorance. I will not deny you your happiness. Be together, with my blessing, as well as your father’s.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I would like to welcome you in Tirion soon, though I would understand it, if Maedhros needs some time to make the journey yet. I will not tell Arafinwё about his return, as you can stay well away from the dramatics at court for a while to come. The latest rumour going around is about when <strike>Artanis</strike><span> Galadriel will claim the position of leadership of the Lothlórien elves. It is only a matter of time, and I am for once interested how that will turn out.</span></em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>With love,</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>Anair</span>
    <span>ё</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>- - - - - - -</em>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <em>Dearest readers,</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I recently uploaded the first chapter of a new story, about Maglor following Finrod on the silmaril quest. It will be canon divergent, and span at least 20 Chapters in the end. I would love to see you there in the future. It is called <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30398244">Voices of Doom</a></em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Letters - Part III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you soo much for the kudos and comments on the last chapter, as well as on my new story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fingon finally breathed out. He had not even realized he had stopped to do so. His lungs felt strangely constricted. With the air came the relief. His mother had come to terms with his choice in a partner. She had even given him her blessings. Fingon was absolutely sure she was sincere. It had taken her the year he had been gone, but she had come around, getting over the laws and customs as she knew them. Fingon was proud of her. She had been one of the more faithful elves, and had not taken part in Fёanor’s rebellion. Accepting something out of the norm she had grown up with, it must have been hard for her.<br/>“What did she write?”, Maedhros asked, as he saw Fingon’s expression.<br/>Without a word, he handed the sheet of paper over to his beloved. “She approves of our relationship, I think.”<br/>Maedhros read the words carefully, until he nodded. “She seems to be slowly accepting it. There is some caution in her words still. What is this about Galadriel?”<br/>Fingon grinned. “The elves of Lothlórien took her and her husband as their leaders, after they went there from Eregion, shortly before it fell. Their followers are loyal still, and currently led by the former kings. Should Galadriel and Celeborn choose to go to the realm of these elves, they will be among their lords. I suspect all four will head that realm then, instead of only one king.”<br/>“This is a strange form of rule”, Maedhros remarked.<br/>Fingon shrugged. “It works, as the refuge of the Doriath elves is also headed by four elves. Some say, this form is more peaceful, as the realm does not depend on the wills of a single character.”<br/>Maedhros nodded. “In hindsight, this might indeed truly be better than a single king. We Noldor had problems with the kingship after all.”<br/>“Neither your father nor mine could be counted as good examples. Yours led us to slay kin, and mine left us to commit suicide by enemy.”<br/>“One could say, they were the best examples why this new form of ruling might be better.”<br/>“Indeed”, Fingon agreed. “If Galadriel makes the choice to go, it will certainly have diplomatic consequences.”<br/>“Arafinwё will be livid, loosing another of his line as possible heir”, Maedhros chuckled. “Is that why he wrote you a letter?”<br/>“I have not opened that yet”, Fingon confessed. “Saving it for last, as I do not plan on going to Tirion to fulfil any king’s wishes soon.”<br/>Maedhros kissed him, fully on the lips.</p><p>Next was the letter from Turgon. It was sealed with blue wax, into which a motif of a city with high towers had been pressed. Fingon automatically assumed it was the official seal of the new settlement. It truly resembled the sketches he had seen of Gondolin, never having seen the now destroyed city with his own eyes.<br/>“Turgon must have loved his city”, Maedhros remarked.<br/>“It was his home, just like Himring was yours. At least for most of the time we all spent in Beleriand.”<br/>“I meant no offence to him”, Maedhros said. “I merely stated something I saw.”<br/>Fingon nodded, and he ripped the envelope open.<br/>The paper inside was rough, and was coloured with blue, like the wax was. It smelled faintly of flowers, probably those which had been used to achieve the blue-ish colouration.<br/>“That’s interesting”, Maedhros remarked. “It looks like they ground dried flower petals into the paper.” He held the envelope against the light streaming in from the window.<br/>Fingon made note of this, though he was more interested in the contents of the letter itself than the manner of its making.</p><p>Hello Fingon,</p><p>Thank you for your letter. Elrond delivered it to me, when he came to seek out Eärendil. He was very tense, when he gave me your message. It is sad to see the family of my grandson so broken.<br/>As what you told me, about your feelings about me. I am sorry I made you feel this way, by staying out of the Union personally. If I had know you wished to see me in person, I may have come. Though to this day, I think it had been a good decision for me to stay back, as I had been your heir.</p><p>Fingon sighed. Yes, Turgon’s view on the matter was a sound one. It would have been foolish to risk the lives of both king and heir in one battle. On the other hand, Turgon had been a skilled strategist, one which could have been useful in the battle of the union.</p><p>I would invite you to my new city, as its construction is almost completed. Many elves, who once dwelled in Gondolin, have chosen to move here already.<br/>How are you doing, my brother? I have not heard much from you in over a year. Mother has not talked much about you, either. I hope you and her did not have a quarrel. I will be visiting our parents soon, if you are in Tirion around the same time, a meeting in person would be wonderful. Otherwise, you will always be welcome in my new hometown.</p><p>With the best wishes,<br/>Turgon</p><p>Fingon let the paper sink to the table, and threw a glance at Maedhros. “At least Turgon isn’t cross with me anymore.”<br/>“What does he write?”<br/>“He got my letter from Elrond, who went to his settlement, because Eärendil is living here. When he is not sailing across the sky, that is.”<br/>“Oh. Does he say how that meeting went?”<br/>“Not a single word”, Fingon said. “He only spoke of the before, how tense Elrond had been. I am curious too, how that meeting went. Maybe he wrote Maglor more, he sent a letter to your brother after all.”<br/>Maedhros nodded. “I will go and ask him. It would make more sense, for him to write about that meeting to Maglor. I got the impression, they both have talked about Eärendil before.”<br/>“They have”, Fingon said. “There was much discussion, of how Elrond should approach his father by blood, as he almost has no memories of him. He does not even call Eärendil his father, as far as I am aware. A previous meeting with Elwing has already gone awry.” Elrond had come to Fingon actually, to find out how his first meeting with Gilgalad after his rebirth had been.<br/>“Oh?”, Maedhros asked shocked. “Why did that meeting go wrong?”<br/>“As far as Elrond told me, she hugged him too tight and too long. He did not like it, especially as he was calling him son all the while.”<br/>“He is.”<br/>“He does not feel like it, and he wished to restart his relationship with her from the beginning. Maybe then he would one day be able to call her mother. Her relief of seeing him alive had not made things easier.”<br/>Maedhros nodded. “As I learned, the title of parent has to be earned. I hope the meeting between them went better than the last one.”<br/>Fingon smiled. He was confident Elrond would be able to mend his relationship with his parents by blood. At least so they could speak with each other without fighting. He kept silent about what he knew Elwing had said about Maedhros and Maglor. She had been right, in her accusations, but nevertheless, these harsh words had hurt her son deeply once.</p><p>Only one other letter remained. It was the one with the seal of the High King, pressed into golden wax. Fingon had lain it aside at first, but he was now interested in it’s contents. He threw a glance at Maedhros. His beloved had not opened yet his letter from his mother.<br/>“Is something wrong?”, Fingon asked him.<br/>“Writing her was fine, but I am a bit anxious about her reply. She has not seen me since we all left for Beleriand. And every news she got of me, must have been bad. First the killing, then capture, and then more killing, until the end.”<br/>“She is your mother, and she has taken back the Ambarussa and Maglor.”<br/>“Their actions can be forgiven, as they were following me. Me, who should have been their eldest.”<br/>“By that time, they all were old enough to make their own decisions. And you all chose to swear you father’s cursed Oath. If Nerdanel is cross with one of you, it will be Fёanor, for wording the oath the way he did. And for his stupid rebellion. Now, open the letter, and read it.”<br/>“What has she said about father?”<br/>“That she sometimes goes to the Halls, asking for him. Open the envelope.”<br/>Reluctantly, Maedhros lifted the paper up again. His hands shook again, and he was almost unable to open the letter without ripping it. Fingon did not offer his help this time. He knew Maedhros was able to do this himself, as it was not a task which required overly nimble fingers. <br/>Maedhros took the sheet out, and unfolded it. His eyes flew over the words, from right to left, and back again. Fingon could not see the words, only that Nerdanel had written many. They shone through the paper.<br/>After a while, Maedhros must have read the letter twice at least, he let the paper sink down. “Mother is happy I am back”, he whispered. Relieved.<br/>“That’s great, though I awaited no less. What else did she write, if you want to tell me?”<br/>“She would love to call Elrond her grandson, and she misses me. She accepts it will take some months until we can reunite, but I am welcome at her home whenever I will arrive. The Ambarussa are doing great. One is courting a lovely lady of the Laiquendi which were reborn to Valinor.”<br/>“That’s great”, Fingon said and grinned. “So she will probably have more grandchildren of her blood, not only adopted ones.”<br/>“I don’t think mother cares much for blood.”<br/>“Too much has been spilled, yes”, Fingon agreed. “What else does she say?”<br/>“She wrote much about her feelings, and how much she missed me, and how much she still misses my other brothers. I fear telling her about Caranthir’s choice, but I will tell her in person soon.”<br/>“Has she gotten news from Námo about your brothers?”<br/>“Not directly. But there might be a chance that Celebrimbor might be returned in the near future.”<br/>“That is great”, Fingon exclaimed. “You have to tell Gilgalad. He will be delighted to hear this. He and your nephew were good friends in the Second Age.”<br/>“I will tell him. Do you think he is with Maglor right now?”<br/>“He should be”, Fingon said. “Otherwise he will be in the garden, stealing our berries again.”<br/>Maedhros grinned and stood up. “I will search him.”</p><p>Once he was gone, Fingon took up the last of his letters. It was the one of the king, the one he had put aside so far, because it could not be of importance.<br/>He ripped it open without much care. This style of letter was used for the diplomats at court, so it was no private message from his uncle. It was one from the High King. As he should soon recognize, it wasn’t even written by the king, only written at his command.</p><p>Your Royal Highness, Prince Fingon,<br/>You are hereby invited to come back to court, and rejoin the diplomatic corps. The High King himself wishes for your return to the ranks of his advisors. Your expertise in trading with the elves formerly of Doriath and those formerly from Ossirand is without compare. With some tensions rising again, as more and more elves are released from the Halls, a skilled negotiator is in dire need. Especially as the court needs to prepare for the return of the remaining Sons of Fёanor.<br/>As further incentive, your yearly salary will be increased generously, and you shall have quarters in the palace, befitting your station as a Prince of the Noldor.</p><p>Glordir<br/>Headmaster of the Diplomatic Corps at Tirion</p><p>Fingon rolled his eyes. Of course Arafinwё had not written him personally. The king may wish his return to court, but this wish would remain unfulfilled. Once, Fingon had left the option open for him to return to court. He had told his uncle he needed time away, but never said he would not return. That had been during a time when he had not been sure of Maedhros’ return. Now he had his beloved with him, and a home and purpose at the bay. Here was where he would stay. Maybe he understood Turgon’s need to built a city of himself, if he thought about it.<br/>For a while, Fingon thought about not answering the letter at all, but decided this would be a petty course of action. Still, it felt like wasting the ink and the time of the messenger. He wrote only a short note, declining the offer politely, stating he was fully occupied with his small settlement, where he cared for his cousin Prince Maglor. He also added a sentence about not seeing a problem with the return of the other Sons of Fёanor. They should be welcomed just like the Ambarussa and Maglor were, as it was to be assumed they had learned from their mistakes. Arafinwё would not be happy about this wording, but Fingon did not really care. There were more difficult matters at court to solve than the return of a few problematic elves. For example, according to Gilgalad, several roads between the realms were in dire need of repair, and the craftspeople of the Noldor were best suited to fixing them. This would also better the relationships between the realms, but Fingon decided this was not his job to point this out. The other advisers could easily come to the same conclusions. He sighed and looked out of the window, waiting for Maedhros’ to come back.</p><p>Peace took over the bay in the next two weeks. No visitor came, so no letters were sent out either. Instead, the elves focussed on getting everything in order. Summer was getting warmer each day, and the plants often needed some water. Caring for them, and producing a stock for the winter was of high priority. Fingon spent many a day with Finrod out in the small fields, Maedhros taking over the watering. Maglor, who had the quickest fingers, thanks to his talent with the harp, was sent to weed.<br/>It was quiet and peaceful.<br/>Too peaceful, it occurred to Fingon later. The quiet resembled too much the one before a storm broke loose.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. The High Kings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which a ruling King visits multipe former kings</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The coming storm announced itself three weeks later by the sound of the hooves could be heard from afar, dampened by the sand. Whoever was coming to their calm refuge, was galloping as fast as they could, as if they were haunted by balrogs. Fingon heard it first, his ears attuned to fine shifts in his surroundings, but Maedhros was a close second. He looked at his lover with concerned eyes, because he understood this had never happened before.</p>
<p class="western">“Whoever it is, we shall greet them”, Fingon sighed and slipped out of bed.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros did the same on the other side and picked up their clothes, handing Fingon his share. “I am a bit concerned”, he said. “Do we need to be prepared to fight against wild animals?”</p>
<p class="western">“No”, Fingon laughed. “I don’t even own a sword. We should be able to make do with our diplomatic skills.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">“Fingon! Where are you?”, a female voice cried from downstairs.</p>
<p class="western">“See, it’s Aredhel”, Fingon said happily. “Not a wild beast.”</p>
<p class="western">“I see no difference”, Maedhros grumbled. “Waking us at this hour.”</p>
<p class="western">It was in fact the time of the sun-rise and red light fell through the one window into Fingon’s bedroom.</p>
<p class="western">“If you’re in bed, I’m coming up! Be decent!”, Aredhel shouted out loud.</p>
<p class="western">Maedhros rolled his eyes and turned to shout back. “We’re coming, be patient for once!” His voice thundered through the small cabin and Fingon smiled. His beloved had always had a strong voice. It had changed over time, after Thangorodrim, speaking loudly had hurt Maedhros for years and he had to shift his tone to compensate. Now his voice lay somewhere between and it was glorious. Had they had more time, Fingon would have kissed his beloved right then on the lips and dragged him back to bed.</p>
<p class="western">Now he had to settle for a quick peck to the cheek and then he grabbed the offered hand, dragging Maedhros with him down the stairs.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">Aredhel was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair was windswept and hung wildly around her face. She smelled faintly of sweat, telling Fingon she must have ridden in a real hurry on her elven steed to the bay. Her expression was serious and a bit worrisome.</p>
<p class="western">“Good morning”, Fingon said in greeting and pointed towards the kitchen.</p>
<p class="western">Surprisingly, Aredhel did follow without question. Maedhros went after her, closing the door behind them. They settled around the table and Fingon poured them some fresh water with a dash of cherry juice. Aredhel took the offered beaker gladly and downed it in one go.</p>
<p class="western">She set the mug down on the wood with force and began speaking. “I was at court <span>five</span> days ago”, she told them. It underlined the hurry with which she must have ridden. Her poor horse was certainly exhausted by now.</p>
<p class="western">“How are things there?”, Maedhros asked with interest. In his youth, he had been at court often, as he had been in the direct line to the throne. Fingon had accompanied him often, for which he had been glad. It had helped him as he had found himself in line to the throne in Beleriand.</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel snorted. “As stuffy as always, but that’s not why I came here. A letter arrived, for High King Arafinwё, bearing the seal of Námo.”</p>
<p class="western">“Why? Aren’t his sons all reincarnated by now?”, Maedhros asked.</p>
<p class="western">“They are. But one of them, he didn’t know about.”</p>
<p class="western">“Shit!”, Fingon cursed. “This is about Finrod, isn’t it?”</p>
<p class="western">“It is”, Aredhel sighed. “Námo told the king where to find his eldest son. I was able to make my escape before anyone could stop me. They would have persuaded me to take them here otherwise.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon was glad his sister possessed such integrity. Had an envoy of the High King approach without warning them first, it could have become a disaster. Finrod’s and Maedhros’ returns had been kept a secret from most elves. Especially from Tirion, where many wronged by their previous deeds dwelled.</p>
<p class="western">“I guess they will come anyway.”</p>
<p class="western">“You would be right. When I fled, uncle Arafin had already given the commands to prepare for travel. I have no clue as to how big his envoy will be.”</p>
<p class="western">“We need to tell Finrod and Maglor.”</p>
<p class="western">Right in this moment, the kitchen door opened and the two entered.</p>
<p class="western">“You woke us with your screaming, little cousin”, Maglor complained as Finrod asked: “What do you need to tell us?”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon squirmed a little bit. He had no idea how Finrod would react to the news. Would he just accept it or would he be enraged? It did not help that Maedhros and Aredhel seemed to wait for him to speak. There was no use in dragging it out further. “It seems High King Arafinwё has gotten word of your return and your dwelling here at the sea. Aredhel just told us to expect his highness in the coming days.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod blanched. His inactivity had come to bite him as it seemed and there was no way he could flee the situation.</p>
<p class="western">“Cousin?”, Fingon asked, seeing his friend stiffen in surprise and realization.</p>
<p class="western">It took a few moments for the blonde to respond. He swallowed hard and turned his gaze onto Aredhel. “Who told him?”, he asked, his voice dangerously low.</p>
<p class="western">“Wasn’t me”, she replied laughing. “Maybe Námo has revoked your privileges – you know the parents are usually among those who get the news when someone is being released.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod deflated. “Sorry”, he whispered, now realizing how wrongful his hidden accusation of Aredhel had been. “I just… Evaded this for so long. I thought I could evade the meeting a bit longer.”</p>
<p class="western">“And when would you have gone to Tirion then?”, Maglor asked softly. “You have been putting his away for so long, I feared you would never gather the courage. Maybe take this as an opportunity?” The minstrel place an arm around his friend and squeezed lightly.</p>
<p class="western">“Aredhel. Is he coming alone?”</p>
<p class="western">She shook her head. “I fear he will bring some guards with him, delaying him for two days at least. I only heard his command to get the horses ready when I slipped out to beat him here.”</p>
<p class="western">“We should prepare”, Maedhros said. “How will react when he finds me here?”</p>
<p class="western">Now it was Fingon’s turn to swallow hard. Nobody had told the High King of the return of Maedhros, at least to their knowledge. On the other hand, he had the re-embodiment of the Ambarussa handled well. This was no guarantee he would be as friendly to Maedhros though, who had been the leader of his brothers at Alqualondё.</p>
<p class="western">“We should”, Fingon agreed.</p>
<p class="western">“I will remain in this house during the visit of the High King”, Maedhros said with a firm voice. “This reunion is strained enough without me.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon wanted to protest. He saw no need in hiding Maedhros or their love. It would simply not do. He understood the logic and hated it. As he was no king anymore, he could voice his annoyance. “This is your home too. I don’t want you to hide.”</p>
<p class="western">“I would do it for Finrod”, Maedhros argued. “At least for a day or so, however long uncle will stay. You should be allowed some time with your father completely focussed on you.”</p>
<p class="western">Finrod shrugged. “I never asked for this, but I appreciate your sacrifice.</p>
<p class="western">“Another matter”, Aredhel interjected. “Is there another way for me to escape the madness which is about to happen, or am I to stay in the guest room?”</p>
<p class="western">“You expect them to take the same way you always follow when coming here?”, Finrod asked.</p>
<p class="western">“No to disappoint, but the way is well trodden by now, with all your travelling during the last year”, Aredhel informed them. “The horses killed the grass.”</p>
<p class="western">“So they will find us”, Finrod stated. “Where will they all sleep?”</p>
<p class="western">“Uncle Arafin should get the guest room in your cabin”, Fingon decreed. “It is the only solution, if Maedhros wants to keep hidden for now.”</p>
<p class="western">The red-haired one nodded. “Then the main house shall be off-limits for the guests.”</p>
<p class="western">Maglor agreed. “The other elves uncle will bring shall dwell outside, as they are uninvited guests.”</p>
<p class="western">Aredhel laughed. “I like your spine – and will take the second bedroom at this cabin.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">With this, they settled into a strange mood of anticipation. None of them had an estimation as to when the envoy of the king would reach their bay. Believing Aredhel’s words, they calculated with a soon visit. Maglor and Finrod prepared the guest room in their cabin in a kingly manner. They showed it to Fingon with a proud demeanour. They had truly done some magnificent.</p>
<p class="western">Otherwise, Maedhros used the time to it’s fullest, walking around on the grounds of their settlement long and often. He went wandering with Maglor one day and Fingon watched them go. He knew there was much unsaid between the two eldest Fёanorions, mostly going back to the time when they had been the two last surviving of their siblings. It was not Fingon’s place to intrude on their reconnecting, so he busied himself with the preparation for the arrival of the High King. It was unfortunate he did not know how many guards Arafinwё would bring. Depending on how long they would stay, feeding them would not be easy. The small fields which the four elves had cared for yielded enough for them, but a larger company would not be fed for long. It was still early in the year, so most of their crops were growing and not ready yet. There were some berries, but they did not still hunger much. Fingon hoped his uncle would have had thought ahead to bring some provisions.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The tension was high during the days they lay in wait. Maedhros started to stay mostly inside, claiming he did not want to run into their uncle unprepared. Fingon let his arguments against this actions slide. He understood why his beloved did remain in the cabin, even though he would have argued that they would hear any approaching hooves soon enough. They had taken notice of Aredhel’s visit before she had been sighted.</p>
<p class="western">Arafinwё came on the third day after Fingon’s sister had warned them about his approach. They heard the horses from afar, as predicted. It was the sound of many hooves approaching, letting the earth beneath them almost shake. Fingon raised his eyebrows at the shear number of elves coming from the forest path. Ten he counted, plus the High King. His guards were armed with swords and bows, their armour polished. It gave the impression of a very formal event, not of a family reunion. At the moment of them coming near, Fingon was the only one in the yard between the two cabins. Where Maglor and Finrod were the dark haired one did not know. He had not met them that day, so they probably were still in bed, although it was highly unlikely they were asleep now. The horses had made a great deal of sound.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon bowed and spoke with a clear voice: “Hail Arafinwё, High King of the Noldor in Valinor.” He easily slipped into the Quenya of his youth, despite using mostly Sindarin with Maedhros and his other cousins these days.</p>
<p class="western">The King rode up front on his grey mare. His blonde curls were swinging in the soft breeze coming from the shore. At the sea, the wind must have been much stronger, but behind the dunes it was softened a great deal. Upon the brow of the King sat the crown, made of silver, gold and copper, of wire intertwined. The sun was reflecting from in and giving off the impression of stars uncounted sparkling. Fingon had seen the crown before, in the dark throne room of the king’s castle in Tirion, but outside the rooms it unfolded it’s true beauty.</p>
<p class="western">“Greetings Prince Findekáno”, Arafinwё said as a form of welcome, using the title Fingon had borne long ago. It felt strange to have it again, for he had been called by many names.</p>
<p class="western">“Uncle”, he said. “Welcome at my humble home. What has driven you to this bay so far outside your city?” Formal speech in Quenya was always a bit complicated. Fёanor had had the greatest pleasure in defining it’s linguistic nuances, something Fingon did not appreciate much.</p>
<p class="western">“I think you know what has led me to your home. Where is my eldest son? I got word from Lord Námo he dwells here.” It was surprising to hear the oldest King speak in a more modern variation of their shared tongue.</p>
<p class="western">It was hard for Fingon to formulate an answer, he knew he was in a diplomatic situation right now. He needed to navigate the discussion as best as he could, for he had to please his uncle and simultaneously give Finrod some moments to decide upon his further course.</p>
<p class="western">What he settled for was: “Yes, Finrod lives here. We have awaited your arrival, so he should be present soon.”</p>
<p class="western">There was a flicker of impatience on the king’s face, for only a moment. In a blink of the eye it was gone. Fingon was surprised at the diplomatic skill, he himself had never been able to mask his true feelings so thoroughly. On the other hand, Arafinwё had had millennia to practise.</p>
<p class="western">The High King nodded and unmounted his horse. As he did so, his guards followed his example. For a few moments, the rustling a creaking of fabric and armour was all that could be heard. The Fingon stood in front of ten guards, one king and thirteen horses, two of which were used to carry excess materials. All horses were packed to the maximum Fingon realized as he looked closer. While they waited for Finrod to make his appearance, he should give some orders.</p>
<p class="western">So Fingon told his guests where they could put up their tents. He had selected the place carefully, neither his bedroom window nor the one to Maglor’s room were looking into the direction of the camp. This would give his cousins much needed privacy. Especially since the minstrel had not let on in which capacity he would interact with the guests.</p>
<p class="western">Hence the guards were distracted for a moment, at least seven of them. Three remained with the King, as if he needed protection from his nephews. He did not speak and glanced around with curiosity.</p>
<p class="western">“Your majesty?”, Fingon drew the attention back to himself.</p>
<p class="western">“Yes?”</p>
<p class="western">“For you, a bedroom has been prepared so you do not have to sleep in a tent.”</p>
<p class="western">“Thank you, Findekáno. Now, where is Findaráto? I want to see him, for I miss him dearly.”</p>
<p class="western">Fingon gave up. “I will see where he is, please wait here.”</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">He went into the cabin Maglor and Finrod shared. As he expected, they were behind the door, listening to what happened outside like children would.</p>
<p class="western">Fingon raised an eyebrow at them. Their behaviour was ridiculous, so he made a gesture towards the door. Finrod seemed to contemplate hesitating, so he got a shove from the minstrel into the right direction. A look of betrayal flashed through the blonde’s eyes, but it was gone soon and he sighed softly. He grabbed the door knob and opened. Fingon watched as his cousin stepped out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Reunited</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fingon watched from the door as Finrod stepped out onto the yard between the cabins, right into the line of sight of the current High King and his father. All commotion died down, even the guards stopped their small movements and their subtle chatter. For a moment, total silence encompassed the settlement at the bay. Fingon’s breath grew shallow as he watched the scene unfold. As Finrod was seen by his father’s eyes, the face of the King underwent a change. Gone was the look of utter control and diplomatic pleasantness, he was in shock. His mouth slightly opened and his eyes went wide. Fingon’s father had reacted similarly at his own return.<br/>With baited breath, the dark haired ellon waited for how the scene would unfurl. From behind, he noticed how stiff Finrod’s back was, as if he expected to need the strength for the conversation with was about to happen no doubt. The blonde’s hands were shaking a bit.<br/>“Findaráto!”, the king suddenly exclaimed with a small shout. He High King gave the reigns of his horse to the guard on his left and stepped forwards. After two steps, he stopped in his tracks and opened his arms in invitation. His eyes were full of hope and Fingon wished he could push his cousin forwards.<br/>After a few seconds, it could have been a minute, Finrod finally stepped into the embrace his father, the High King offered. Fingon watched as they stood there in the middle of the yard between the two cabins his refuge consisted of and he smiled. Maybe now the great sadness upon Finrod’s mind would be lifted. The dark haired one did not doubt there would be a solution to all their troubles and he had an idea, but was unsure if he should meddle. If the visit of the king would turn sour, he could always step in, he had dealt with Arafinwё often enough in court.</p>
<p>Fingon went a step backwards and signed Maglor to do the same. With this, they would not be directly witnessing the scene outside and give Finrod and his father some much needed privacy. Together the two watchers sat down at the table in the entrance room of the newly built cabin.<br/>“For a moment I expected Finrod to pull back”, Maglor whispered. “He was clearly uncertain how he should react.”<br/>“I am glad he accepted his father’s offered embrace”, Fingon replied. “Maybe in time Finrod will be comfortable with his status as prince again.”<br/>“I doubt it. He has no wish to become the heir or ruler of a realm again.”<br/>“I know That’s why I said prince, not High Prince.”<br/>“Oh?”, Maglor raised an eyebrow. “Why do I feel like you know something I don’t?”<br/>Fingon smiled a bit. “Let’s see if they arrive at the conclusion themselves, shall we?”<br/>“Which conclusion?”<br/>“Leaving the succession the way it’s set up right now, with Finrod’s younger brothers as the next ones in line to the throne.”<br/>Maglor laid his hands on his face. “You think uncle will go for it? He’s very traditionalist.”<br/>“He can’t force Finrod to do anything. In the end he will take this compromise over loosing his son again.”<br/>“You’re not joking.”<br/>“I am not. If Arafin’s visit sours because of the succession question, I am going to propose this easy solution and make sure they agree on it.”<br/>“One could get scared of you, Finno”, Maglor said. “There’s fire in your words.”<br/>“Only when my family is concerned.” Fingon knew he had some talent with diplomacy. He had not Maedhros’ natural gift for it, but he had learned the skill in the long years he had been High Prince and later King. It wasn’t often he made the effort nowadays in Valinor, as he was only of minor political importance. A change he had welcomed. He was glad his social station had lessened a great deal, he had more freedom to choose his own way like this – and it gave him the freedom to finally love Maedhros openly. Fingon was ready to have their relationship known, as soon as his beloved was ready for it. Right now they both were still adjusting to living, but their time would come.<br/>“Have you seen how many guards uncle brought?”, Maglor remarked. “One should think he fears the woods.”<br/>Fingon shrugged. “There are wild animals in the new lands, but they keep to themselves. I doubt he knows this though.”<br/>“Still, ten is a large number.”<br/>“He’s king. Maybe it’s a show of status.”<br/>“Probably”, Maglor agreed. “I wonder how were going to feed them.”<br/>“We don’t”, Fingon declared. “They will have to go hunting or fishing if their stores run dry. Our small fields yield enough for us four and one or two guests at a time, but ten? Certainly not.”<br/>“That’s not very friendly.”<br/>“Bringing ten mouths to a settlement of four isn’t considerate either. But fine, I will see what we can spare.”</p>
<p>Fingon could not take the tension which had built in his refuge any longer and drew himself away from where the High King and Finrod had vanished onto their walk. The guards seemed to be equally lost and started building up their tents near the forest. Apparently Aredhel’s stern warning to keep away from the main cabin had put the fear of her wrath into them. Fingon was glad for it, because this way Maedhros could remain hidden without being discovered. He had kept his assessment of him hiding being better in the beginning. His lover was of a different mind, as the High King had only brought re-embodied Noldor as his guard, a move which had not went unnoticed. Fingon was glad, as he remembered some fights with his uncle about this matter. It would not do to confront anyone reborn with people they had wronged early on. Finrod was not among those truly newly returned, but of course his father could not have known. Now it had the added benefit of not upsetting Maedhros further.</p>
<p>It turned out that the guards had brought camping equipment, so they needed no accommodations, which relieved Finrod a great deal. Fingon spoke only shortly with one of the guards, the one leading them. He did not know the ellon, not even from his time at the King’s court. Three other guards seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he could not place them. Maybe he had seen them at the court before. Or even longer ago. He shook his head in a small gesture.<br/>By talking to the head of the guard, he learned that they had brought some food of their own, so they would be fine for at least three to six days. They would appreciate being able to stretch their food with what could be gathered from the sea or the nearby wood, if Fingon allowed them the gathering.<br/>“You are allowed to do that”, he said, as there was no reason for him to prohibit them from entering the woods. “I would appreciate it, if you kept clear of the fields, as they are for producing the food my family needs to survive out here. Also, under no circumstance you are allowed to enter any of the cabins, except you are invited inside by me.”<br/>The leader of the guards nodded. “Of course, Prince Fingon. We are honoured to be your guests, and we will follow your commands.”<br/>“Very well”, Fingon said. “Have a good stay.”<br/>“Are there any other rules?”<br/>“Not at the moment. You are here, and I am not of a mind to change this. Next time, sent a letter ahead. This time, you can be grateful for Aredhel.”<br/>“Of course”, the guard said. “This time, the High King was so in a hurry, he forgot. He was so eager to finally see his son, no elf would have been able to stop him.”<br/>“I gathered as much, from his own words. Was it truly Námo, who sent him the words about Finrod’s return?”<br/>“I did not see the letter in person, but I heard it bore the official seal of the Valar.”<br/>Fingon nodded. This was enough for him. He could not guess the reasons for this actions. Of course, he was only an ellon, he would probably never truly understand the Ainur. Maybe Námo had just watched Finrod’s hiding, and decided to end it. They knew about fate, after all. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe it was only for Arafinwё’s peace of mind.</p>
<p>Fingon longed to check on Maedhros, as his beloved had been alone for the whole day so far. The sun was setting already though, and he knew that he would have to dine with the King and this other two cousins. It was expected of him. If he did not show, he would also raise suspicions. So, with a heavy heart, he went to Finrod’s cabin, and came face to face with Maglor again.<br/>“Hey”, he said, lacking anything else to say.<br/>“Hey.” Maglor sighed. “It was an exciting day so far.”<br/>“Agreed. Are the King and Finrod back yet?”<br/>Maglor shook his head. “They took a break, two hours ago. I was able to speak with Finrod for a moment, and told them I would prepare dinner. Then they went again. They should be back in half an hour or so.”<br/>“Oh. What are you making?”<br/>Maglor gestured towards the pan on the stove. “Steak, with roasted tomatoes and carrots. It’s easy to make, and we had some fresh meat from Finrod’s last hunt still.”<br/>“I remember. He was quite successful. Shall a prepare a small salad as well?”<br/>“If you could, that would be amazing.”<br/>“I will do so. Have you spoken with Maedhros today?”<br/>Maglor grinned and nodded. “Yes. He’s fine. Last I checked on him, he was in your bed, reading the red book.”<br/>“You gave it to him?”<br/>“Elrond said I should, and I agreed. It tells much of the important bits of the end of the Third Age, and of Elrond, of course. You haven’t read it yet?”<br/>“No, so far, I lacked the time, and much has been told to me by the ones who lived through it.” Fingon grabbed a bowl made of burnt clay, and went for the door.<br/>His visit to the garden was a short one, as he only needed to get some leaves of fresh salad. He was back in the makeshift kitchen of Finrod’s cabin in no time.<br/>“You added that stove whilst I was in the Halls, right?”, Fingon asked.<br/>“Indeed. It felt strange to always go to your empty cabin, so after a while we added a stove to our own.”</p>
<p>The High King and Finrod returned in time, just as Maglor had expected. So far, both the King and his son seemed to be at peace, though Finrod conducted himself in a stiff manner.<br/>Fingon bowed in show. “Welcome back, uncle”, he said. They were family here, there was no need to address his relative as the king he was.<br/>“Well met, Fingon”, Arafinwё replied. “Finrod spoke highly of your hospitality, and your courage.”<br/>Fingon threw a glance at his cousin, and then nodded. “This is generous of him. I gather you must be hungry. Maglor prepared food, so I suggest to sit down at the table.” He gestured at the furniture.<br/>Arafinwё looked over at Maglor. Fingon was aware that they had not seen much of each other since the minstrel returned to Valinor, but the High King knew of him, of course. Maglor’s return had never been a secret, and even though he was among the more problematic of his brothers, no loud voices had been raised against him. Many of those who had stayed behind remembered him as loyal to his father and Maedhros, and thusly blamed him less. Fingon knew that Maglor was not innocent. I remembered times when the minstrel had been a warlord, and the elves of Doriath knew as well. There, Maglor had been among those in favour of the attack. He had learned his lesson then, even though Maedhros took most of the blame onto his own shoulders still.<br/>They ate in silence. It was a bit awkward, but better than confrontation.</p>
<p>Afterwards, Finrod took it upon himself to clean the dishes, which left the King, Fingon and Maglor at the table.<br/>“You won’t return to Tirion then?”, Arafinwё asked, directed at Fingon. “I could need you at court.”<br/>“I am of more need here, uncle”, Fingon replied.<br/>“A pity. You were clever in negotiating with all the different peoples.”<br/>“This is nothing your other counsellors and diplomats can’t do. I suggest you just add more elves of Beleriand to your service, as I said before.”<br/>“Do you really think this is a good idea? Many inhabitants of Tirion will be displeased about this.”<br/>Fingon sighed. “Tirion is not as homogenous as you would like to think. You would do well to adjust your court to the situation. And yes, you should employ more elves who know about the grievances of Beleriand first hand.”<br/>“I will think about it”, the King conceded. “I hope Finrod will be able to help with this as well.”<br/>Fingon swallowed and stared at the table. “Don’t get your hopes up, uncle.”<br/>Maglor nodded. “Being a leader is hard, and not a thankful job. I second Fingon’s opinion of adding elves of Beleriand to your service. I saw your guards from afar today, and one of them I remember from the Gap. If it works in your guard, the diplomats should be able to arrange for the same.”<br/>The King nodded once again, and then he changed the topic. “Finrod told me, he and you…?”<br/>“Are in a relationship, yes”, Maglor answered. “Does this bother you?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always highly appreciated. If you want to keep up to date, please consider a suscription. I try to answer almost every comment (polite ones at least), even though it might take me a few days<br/>Until another day,</p><p>Sylanna</p></blockquote></div></div>
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